


Lost + Found

by casbuddy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (warnings in notes), Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst, M/M, PTSD, Slow Burn, side pairings of: Sam/Jess; Charlie/Dorothy; Bobby/Jody; Jo/Victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 152,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5285069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbuddy/pseuds/casbuddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the day of supposed celebration for Dean’s graduation, he was involved in a car crash. Parents dead. Sam hooked on drugs. And Dean didn’t even get a scratch on him. Six years on, Sam was back on his feet, ready for law school with his girlfriend in tow. On the other hand, Dean felt like he hadn’t done anything with his life; he pretended the impala wasn’t sitting in his garage; there was no girlfriend on his arm; the degree was forgotten in the bottom of his wardrobe. Most importantly, he still found himself feeling a little too responsible for everything that had happened in the crash. Sometimes, it felt like he was barely holding on by a thread. </p><p>And then in came Castiel, slowly but surely turning everything into question. And <i>then some. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, here it is. This started off as an original story idea that was based on Dean and Cas; when I decided to take the plunge and do DCBB this year, I figured why not use a story that's based on them and actually _use_ them? Like all of my stories, this one got longer and longer and longer than I initially expected, but it's finally done! I really hope at least one of you out there likes it. And hell, even if no one does, I'm still glad that I wrote this monstrosity!
> 
> The biggest thank you of all goes to [my artist](http://xlostloonax.livejournal.com/) . As soon as I saw they'd claimed my story, I was flailing; when I saw the artwork they'd done, I was flailing even more and I haven't stopped flailing since. [ Here is the art masterpost.](http://xlostloonax.livejournal.com/13410.html) Go look at it and weep.
> 
> Thank you to my amazing betas. Thank you to [Megan](http://ghostran.tumblr.com)  
> and [Meg](http://brandanoquits.tumblr.com) for some very good advice. And a massive, _massive_ thank you to Libby for beta'ing this entire thing and showing me how flipping amazing it is to have someone beta your work. As always though, any mistakes left over are all mine and you can all shout at me it if you want (please don't shout at me).
> 
> Oh, and thank you to my writing buddy [Mo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorGod/works) who helped me along the way too! Your guidance was very much appreciated.
> 
>  
> 
>  **Warnings for:** mentions of past drug use, past suicide attempts, past minor character death, homelessness, homophobia, and PTSD.

 

_"Flowers grow back, even_

_after they are stepped on._

_So will I.”_

_- **Resilience**_

 

 

Most weather, Dean could mildly tolerate; he could duck his head down and just try and get on with his daily business, pretending that there wasn’t sweat dripping from every pore of his body, or that snow afflicting the ground wasn’t causing him to slip every other footstep.

Come to think of it, Dean pretty much hated any weather that caused him problems. But out of all of them, out of everything that Mother Nature fucking threw at him, there was one type of weather that Dean couldn’t deal with; cold rain slashing down with a nice added extra of strong winds that could take his head off. Dean _hated_ it. That was unless he was cocooned in his apartment; to Dean, there was something soothing listening to the windows rattle aggressively as the rain thrashed, a constant sound that Dean could wrap himself up with and forget everything else. Almost like a hug.

But when Dean was forced into leaving his safe haven and rushing off into the storm, there was nothing else that could put Dean in more of a bad mood. Rain on its own, he could handle if needed; the wind cutting his cheeks, he could deal with. But the wet, cold mix of them together made Dean want to strangle someone. Many a time did Dean feel envious of those driving past him, but when the rain was soaking through his shoes and socks whilst the brutal winds gave him no escape route, those were the times when Dean was most jealous of drivers. Worse was when they drove by in their home away from home, splashing Dean either on purpose or because they pretended he didn’t exist.

Yeah, Dean really hated this weather. At least now he was on his way back from work, stubbornly refusing a ride from Bobby because he was in one of those idiotic moods of his where he pretended he didn’t need anyone’s help. He wasn’t too far away from home now though, a perk of living close to work. Soon, he’d be able to throw off the damp clothes that had been sticking to him in all the wrong places all day, grab a nice, warm shower and then chill out for the weekend. That shit sounded pretty good to him right now. Maybe he could even eat the leftover pie that he had waiting for him in the fridge; it was damn good pie even when all pies tasted at least a little pale in comparison to the ones he was treated to when he was a kid.

Taking the quicker route so he didn’t have to linger in the rain any longer than necessary meant Dean had to walk down the busier streets of his town. Like most of the roads, the buildings were made of old bricks; if a hurricane came through, they’d probably all crumble to the ground. Even though a stranger walking through would probably think a lot of the buildings, both shops and houses, were shabby, Dean loved them. Looking at them made him feel like home; the corner shop that had been there ever since he was a kid when he used to go spend his pocket money on candy, the house that had been abandoned for years after a fire had engulfed it, the park that he’d used to hang out in when he was a kid and then a surly teenager, lounging on the swing set like it made him and his friends cool. There were a lot of things wrong about the town, but Dean loved it all the same.

Because of the weather, the streets were pretty much empty. Only a handful of people were as unlucky as Dean, chins tucked into their jackets as they sped along without making eye contact.

The roads were still busy though; Dean had always disliked walking through the busier streets during the early evening. There was a constant rush of traffic that never seemed to let up, heightening and heightening Dean’s anxiety each time a large truck went whizzing by. It was something he wished didn’t bother him, but he couldn’t help it. Even six years later, he still felt an uncomfortable prickling on the back of his neck when a vehicle got a little too close for comfort.

Because he was so far into his own head, overthinking things and wishing he was already home as he did his best to quicken his speed as much as he could without actually running, he almost missed the noise. Which wouldn’t have been difficult with the heavy rainfall causing a racket. If he hadn’t been walking by the alley at the exact time, he would have carried on with his pity party for one and not noticed. But he had been in the right place at the right time and the noise had been unmistakeable. Dean halted his footsteps, splashing a small puddle that speckled his jeans.

Something or other had cried out.

Peering into the dark alley, Dean wondered what the hell it could have been. It was a small side alley, filled with garbage bins and shit that local stores and apartment owners had thrown there half-heartedly. Dean had definitely heard something, he was certain; a screech of some kind, or a yowl. But Dean couldn’t see anything in the darkness, just more and more garbage bags piled high and some highly suspicious looking needles dropped in the corner where someone must have crouched and shot up more of their life away.

Just as Dean was about to shake his head and conclude that he was being an idiot and hearing things, another cry filled the soggy air. This time, Dean could note what kind of thing was making the pitiful noise. Definitely a cat, Dean decided. Taking another cautious step into the suffocating alley, Dean privately wondered what the hell he was doing. For all he knew, it wasn’t a cat, but a great big stinking monster ready to eat anyone stupid enough to enter its lair.

And then it went off again, another yowl; they were getting increasingly louder and louder. Any other evening, especially ones like this where the rain felt like tiny shards of glass cutting his cheek, Dean would have ignored it and carried on with his hurry to get home. But this wasn’t the usual meows or hisses of a cat that was doing its daily business of whatever the hell cats did in their own time; this was more like a yowl, something that indicated the little creature was far from okay. And, well, Dean wasn’t completely heartless to ignore that, even if he wasn’t the biggest animal lover in the world.

Tucking his chin further into the collar of his leather jacket in the hopes that it may starve him from some of the rain, Dean pressed further into the side alley. With the constant noise and the size of the alley, it didn’t take Dean long to find the owner of the noise. Hidden next to a pile of trash bags that had been there god knows how long was a cat that looked tiny compared to its surroundings. Ginger, one eye circled by white fur, the cat barely noticed Dean’s appearance, too busy screeching as it lay there.

“Hey little guy,” Dean said, though his voice was barely heard over the heavy rainfall that seemed to be relentless, though the alley provided some small relief from the harsher rain. The cat seemed to have the best of ideas, lying with its side against the wall, managing to miss most of the downpour, though there were patches that were getting wet and matted even from the shelter it had chosen for itself.

Immediately after Dean spoke, the cat seemed to notice. Automatically its attitude changed from a scared little animal to one that was threatening, ears flapping back, tail going bushy as it tried to stare Dean down. Now, this was probably the time that Dean should be hurrying off so he didn’t get his face bitten off by a feral animal that was just waiting for the chance to attack. But there was something that stopped Dean from rushing away, something in the back of his mind that was telling him he needed to fix whatever problem was going on with the tiny thing that wanted to kill him. Quickly, he realised what the problem was. While the cat obviously felt threatened - anyone with eyes could see that the cat baring its teeth was scared - it still wasn’t getting up on its feet to either launch at Dean’s jugular or stalk off before the big, scary stranger could hurt it.

Something was stopping the cat from moving.

Cautiously, Dean shuffled forward and crouched down to get a better look. The closer he got to the ginger cat, the more tense it appeared, it's fur continuing to stick out, fangs showing.

“Easy,” Dean murmured, hoping that using a calm voice might somehow help matters. He was doubtful it would; why would a cat who’d never been near him before be soothed by his voice? Strangely though, Dean’s voice stopped the cat from hissing, though it still looked more than antsy that a stranger was towering above them.

Dean’s eyes roamed over the tiny thing, trying to figure out why it still wasn’t running away. It didn’t take long for Dean to note what the problem way. The cat appeared to be fine, though a little dirty, apart from one of its hind legs. Red was seeping into the ginger fur, making it sticky if Dean had been stupid enough to try and touch it. Though Dean couldn’t spot what the actual injury was, he at least knew where it was based.

“Right, okay,” Dean carried on speaking, though he was unsure of why, “let’s get you some help, huh?” he offered, not feeling as idiotic as he perhaps ought to seeing as he was crouching in the pouring rain whilst talking to a cat that didn’t have a clue what he was saying.

After fumbling in his pockets for a good few seconds, Dean was dialling Jess’ number. If anyone knew what the hell to do in this situation, Jess did.

“Hey,” Jess answered the phone after a few rings, voice perky, telling Dean that he hadn’t caught her at a bad time. Jess was a busy lady; at college, volunteering at a vet clinic to get extra brownie points so she had more of a chance at a job in the end, not to mention she had to deal with Dean’s little brother.

“Hey Jess,” Dean said, still hovering over the cat, who seemed to be slowly getting used to Dean’s presence now that it had figured out that Dean wasn’t about to tear it apart and sell it for scraps. Dean kind of understood how the little thing felt; Dean wasn’t always welcoming to strangers either, especially those that he felt weren’t being true.

“What’s up?” Jess asked, a bustling noise under her voice, like she was multitasking as she spoke. That sounded like Jess, she was always off doing something or other. Even if there was nothing that needed to be done, Jess liked to create something to give herself something to do. Perhaps it was an only child kind of thing; she’d grown up busying herself with things whilst other kids had played with their siblings, and now that she was older, her wish to be busy had stuck.

“Is Melbourne open at the moment?” Dean raked his eyes over the cat once more to see if there were any other injuries it was harbouring that Dean hadn’t noticed yet. Besides the grumpy face, Dean couldn’t see anything else wrong with the poor thing. It was getting increasingly more pitiful as the time passed though; the situation had switched and now it was looking at Dean like he might be its saviour.

“Er,” Jess hummed, now sounding confused, “no. It’s too late. It shuts at 6. I should know, I helped close up today.”

Frustrated, Dean ran a hand through his hair, causing tiny, angry droplets to splash around like he was a wet dog shaking his fur, “Well, what the hell are people supposed to do if their pet is dying or something? Wait until tomorrow?”

Now Jess sounded amused, probably wondering why Dean was getting worked up about a veterinary clinic’s closing times, “There’s an emergency animal hospital you can go to out of hours. It’s on the other side of town,” she explained.

“Oh, right,” Dean scratched his chin, feeling slightly idiotic for not coming to that conclusion on his own. “That makes sense, I guess.”

“Dean,” Jess said slowly, curiosity piquing, “why are you asking about what time Melbourne shuts?”

“Uh,” Dean looked down at the cat that had stopped yowling and was now just pathetically mewling, “I’m going to kinda need your help with something.”

 

* * *

 

After what felt like hours of cat scratches, gauze, and an awful lot of baby talk from grown adults, Jess was finally pulling up to a terraced house on the outskirts of town. Because the town was small, the outskirts wasn’t exactly far from the middle of the town itself; the house they were heading to was only an hour and a half walk away from Dean’s, if that. It was one of the things that Dean was thankful for; everything was an easy walking distance for him if he had no choice but to use his own two feet.

Unlike Dean’s usual ways, he’d opted to sit in the back of the car with the cat, who was currently curled up on Dean’s jacket next to him. The cat was half asleep in the way that cats sometimes did, very much aware of their surroundings and ready to pounce. Even though the poor thing was extremely displeased about recent events (if Dean had thought the cat didn’t like him, jesus, the cat r _eally_ hated the vets), she looked like she was ready to drop because of the medication pumping through her. There was no need for Dean to sit in the back and keep watch of her, but he chose to anyway. Oddly, he felt responsible for the little animal now. At least until she was returned to her owner.

“I hope the owner appreciates all of this, Dean,” Jess said, parking the car steadily in a way that re-reminded Dean as to why he trusted her to drive him places. Though the trust had taken years to be achieved, Dean was glad it had happened eventually.

“I’m sure they will,” Dean replied, peering out of the rain stained windows. The rain was starting to come back full force, typical really as Dean was about to have to go out and brave it. As he prepared to leave the car, he went to hike up his jacket collar, but his fingers found his plaid shirt, another reminder that he’d given his damp jacket to a certain little cat to use as a blanket.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Jess shrugged, tapping her short nails against the steering wheel. “What matters is the little kitty is okay,” she cooed, turning her head to smile warmly at the poor cat. If Dean had ever doubted that Jess was cut out for being a veterinary nurse, today would have quashed it. The way she had so carefully dealt with the abusive cat, how she had spoken to the veterinary nurses at the emergency animal hospital - yeah, Jess was definitely supposed to be in this career.

“You could have let the hospital call the owner up though. The, uh,” Jess’ nose scrunched as she tried to remember the unusual name, “Cas Novak person,” she opted for the shorter version of the first name; both of them had lightly argued about the correct way to say Castiel, but the fight couldn’t be resolved until Dean spoke to the person and found out how it was really said from the horse’s mouth.

“I wanted to bring her back myself,” Dean muttered, feeling a strange urge to reach over and tickle the cat’s ears. He knew it was a dumb thing to do though; he would be practically inviting the cat to bite his finger off. The cat might have started to get used to his presence, but that didn’t mean she’d let him touch her.

For some reason, even though the cat clearly wanted to be away from him as soon as possible from the moment they met, Dean had felt the need to take the cat back to its owner rather than let the hospital make them come to collect the cat themselves. Dean had no clue why he felt the insatiable urge, but he did. And he was sticking with it.

“You want me to come to the door with you?” Jess offered.

“No, it’s okay.” Dean shook his head, figuring it would make sense that only one of them should brave the rain; while Jess had better people skills, Dean wanted to do this himself, “I’ll go.” He undid his seatbelt, shuffling to the door to get out. “You can leave me here with the thing once I know that they’re at home.”

“Okay.” Jess’ face pulled into a frown. “If you’re sure,” she said, clearly uncertain about the whole thing; none of Dean’s family ever liked to take him places and then not take him home, even if Dean told them it was fine. Dean understood why they wouldn’t particularly like it; if the shoe was on the other foot, he’d demand to stick around so he could drive them home. But because it was him, someone who hated using and abusing his family for something as dumb as getting a car ride, Dean always tried not to ask for it unless he absolutely needed to.

“Oh,” Jess added as an afterthought, frown turning into an amused smirk, “but maybe don’t call the cat a thing in front of the owner though. Don’t think that the Cas person would appreciate it.”

After thinking about it for barely a second, Dean nodded. Jess was definitely correct on this one. “Right,” he grinned as he imagined the owner yelling at him when he called their injured pet a _thing,_ “I’ll be back in a second, don’t go anywhere,” he warned, though he knew the chances of Jess leaving was less likely than a meteor dropping on his head.

“Good luck!” Jess chimed as Dean slid out of the car, shutting the door carefully behind him so he wouldn’t wake the cat up. The cat hadn’t taken a great liking to Jess and Dean didn’t think it was a good idea to have a highly medicated cat be awake whilst stuck in a small space with her. While the thought of Jess fighting a cat might be slightly humorous, the reality of it was anything but.

The rain was still at it, hammering against the top of Dean’s head and rolling down his cheeks, but it wasn’t quite as heavy as beforehand. It didn’t help matters that he was still damp from his earlier walk; his shirt was sticking to him and his jeans felt ten pounds heavier than they should. Hell, his cursed bow leggedness was probably at an all-time high right about now.  

Now that he was actually outside, Dean paid more attention to the neighbourhood he was in and the house he was walking to. The neighbourhood was decent, a little rough around the edges, but there wasn’t an ominous feeling that he was about to get stabbed. Which was a bonus. There were a few areas of the town that made you feel that way; like someone was out to get you because their life was shit and they thought getting at you would somehow make their life better. Whenever Dean saw something on the news about a kid barely out of diapers robbing someone at knife point so they could score, he would always wonder if that would have been him if his parents had brought him up on the other side of town. He never liked to think about it too much.

Actually, the more Dean looked around, the more he was sure that Garth, one of his old high school buddies, lived around the area; it felt familiar somehow. Rarely did Dean come this far out of the main town, there was no reason for him to, but he was sure he’d been around here at some point.

The houses were small, two bedroom at most, as they were squashed together in solidarity. There were no front yards, just a few steps up from the sidewalk to the house. Dean squinted from the rain as he double checked that the house he wanted was the house he thought it was; 1809 was painted to the side of the door, telling Dean he could carry on forward.

1809 had hanging baskets on either side of the front door, unlike many of the other bare houses that surrounded it. Because they were still in the darkness of winter, Dean was surprised to find that there were a few flowers littered in the greenery; the person who owned the house clearly knew their plants. As well as that, small plant pots were wired to the banisters that were there to help you up the stairs. Unlike the hanging baskets, the plant pots weren’t filled, like they’d only been placed there and the owner was trying to figure out what to put in them. There were a few on either side of the stairs, tiny terracotta plant pots that were waiting to be filled.

Oddly, it made Dean a little whimsical, wondering what the place looked like when the sun was blooming rather than shying away. Would the plants match the forest green door or would they be something else entirely? Blues and yellows and pinks to help guide the owner home in the dark.

Giving the car one last glance, rolling his eyes when he saw Jess giving him a cheesy thumbs up, Dean took the few steps up to the house. This close, he could see how the paint was crumbling on the front door, little flecks of the plain wood coming through. Fighting the urge to peel off some, Dean knocked the door, his wet knuckles rattling the wood.

It wasn’t until the door opened that Dean realised he’d been expecting a woman. Or a house full to the brim with kids and exhausted looking parents who were struggling and having to worry about a missing cat on top of everything else. Behind the door, Dean found neither of those things.

A man, a little shorter than Dean but not by much, stood in the doorway, clinging to the door like he was ready to perhaps slam it shut again if the visitor was trouble. Even though Dean always had trouble guessing people’s ages, he figured the stranger was around his age, maybe a year or two older. His brown hair was a little messy, either because the guy had been in the middle of taking a nap that had involved a lot of toss and turning, or because the guy’s hair was always like that. Strands sticking out in different sections that made him look like he’d ran his hands through his hair fifty billion times. Or someone else had been doing it for him.

It wasn’t the oversized, slightly ratty sweater, the crinkles developing at the top of his straight nose, or the defined jaw and pink lips that caught Dean’s attention, it was the bright blue eyes that were transfixed on his own for far too long than Dean was comfortable with. Didn’t the guy know that you weren’t supposed to stare so deeply into a stranger like he was doing to Dean? Even though the staring made him uncomfortable, Dean couldn’t help but think the blue eyes seemed kind; there weren’t signs of anything bad in the ring of blue, except perhaps mistrust.

Feeling nervous all of a sudden, Dean scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he tried to appear as casual as possible, “Uh, hey.” He attempted a smile, wondering how the hell he was going to explain what had happened without either sounding like some kind of weirdo or that he was the one who’d hurt the damn cat and was now feeling guilty about it. Perhaps he should have let Jess come and do the talking instead after all. Or Dean should have prepared some kind of fucking speech.

“Hello?” the guy asked, still staring at Dean utterly so, but the confusion was starting to seep into the downturn of lips. The deepness of the guy’s voice surprised Dean; someone wearing a grey sweater where the sleeves covered their knuckles shouldn’t have a voice that sounded like he’d been gargling gravel for breakfast each morning.

“Uh, this is gonna sound weird, but I think I found your cat?” His anxiety made him pose it as a question, blinking harshly when a drop of rain hit him bang in the eye.

The guy’s eyes widened. “You found Ariel?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, sighing in relief when he realised he had the right house after all, “I was walking in town and I heard something. Found her in one of the alley ways. I can go get her if you want, bring her in?” He used his thumb to point at the car behind him, already knowing the answer to the question before he even finished it.

“Please.” The guy nodded eagerly, looking one step away from rocking on the balls of his feet if Dean didn’t hurry the hell up and get his cat, which was apparently called Ariel of all things.

“I’ll be right back.” Dean smiled, pleased that the story had ended happy at least. For all he knew, he could have got there and found that the owner was a piece of shit who didn’t deserve a cat. And then Dean would have been stuck with an animal that hated him and then what the hell would he have done? Living with a cat that wanted to tear out his eyeballs wouldn’t have been the greatest of lives.

“Okay,” the guy who Dean assumed must be Castiel said, continuing to nod.

Hurriedly, part because of the rain, part because of the shiny excitement in the stranger’s eyes, Dean rushed to the car. Quickly, he opened the door to reach the cat, who peeled her eyes open so she was squarely looking at Dean, as if she was urging him to even _try_ and touch her.

“Is the guy okay?” Jess asked, peeking her head between the driver and passenger seat. Her eagerness just proved to Dean that she’d been watching every interaction that he and Castiel had had. Jesus, she could be nosey when she wanted to be, always wanting to know what was going on and when. In some respects, she was exactly like Sam; Dean loved his little brother but sometimes he liked to put his nose in every bit of Dean’s business. True, it was only because he wanted to try and help, but the shit got annoying sometimes.

“Yeah, he seems like an alright guy.” Dean scratched the back of his head, more than slightly distracted as he tried to think of a way to pick up the cat without being scratched or bitten. “He nearly collapsed when I said I’d found his cat. She’s called freaking Ariel.” He pulled a face, somewhat because of the choice of name, but mainly due to the fact he was getting ready for an attack as he reached over and scooped up his jacket with the cat bundled on top.

“Aw,” Jess hummed, grinning sweetly, “that’s a cute name! Are you ready to go back to your owner, Ariel?” she asked, safely away from the claws as she spoke to the cat who did _not_ look like she was enjoying herself. The poor thing had had quite a day, Dean supposed.

“I best get her back before the guy has a heart attack,” Dean said, holding the cat close to his chest whilst making sure none of him was actually touching the cat itself - he had a feeling that might cause a paw to the eye. On top of that, he knew that Ariel was frightened. She’d hurt herself, been manhandled by strangers all day as well as drugged; if Dean could do anything to try and ease her worries even the slightest, he was going to do it.

“You can go if you want,” he told Jess with a small smile, holding the jacket and cat steady in his arms.

Jess bit her lip. “You sure?” she asked, still looking unhappy with the idea of leaving Dean in a random ass place.

“Yeah,” Dean reassured her, squinting when a rain droplet was teetering on his eyebrow, “Else Sammy’s gonna think I’ve kidnapped you or something,” he joked with a wink, which Jess dramatically rolled her eyes at. “Thanks for driving me though,” he added, nearly jumping when Ariel’s paw stretched out. Apparently she was only doing it to get comfortable though, not to try and gouge out Dean’s spleen. _Phew._

“You’re welcome.” Jess smiled that sunshine smile of hers that made everyone cheer up, no matter the scenario; it was definitely a talent of hers. “Now go give that poor little kitty back to her owner.” She paused, laughing as she shook her head. “God, I can’t wait to tell Sam that his big, bad brother was out there today saving little kitties.”

“Oh, shut up, you.” Dean rolled his eyes, cheeks feeling an awful lot like they were heating up, even in the bitter air.

“See you later Dean,” Jess called as Dean shut the door, forcing her into the warmth of the car, rather than the biting cold.

Shielding Ariel from the worst of the rain, Dean made his way back to the house. Castiel was standing at the doorway, hugging himself, apparently uncaring of the fact that he was getting wet. Careful not to jostle Ariel too much, or worse, drop her, Dean thudded up the stairs.

“Ariel,” the guy exclaimed, completely ignoring Dean as he waved his hands over the cat’s body, eyes glued on the bandage that was wrapped around her hind leg. Dean frowned; the cat’s name had sounded a little different then. Maybe Dean was mishearing and she wasn’t called Ariel after all.

“Um, she kind of hurt herself,” Dean said lamely, wishing that he’d mentioned that beforehand so Castiel could have prepared himself for it or something.

Castiel’s hands reached out to take the cat but he quickly changed his mind, dropping them to his side as he instead led Dean into the small house. “Bring her in,” Castiel told him gravely, nearly walking into the wall as kept his gaze squarely on the cat. Jesus, the guy’s obsession with giving direct eye contact seemed to extend to furry animals with whiskers too.

Like the outside, the interior of the house was nothing spectacular. The furniture was used, clearly so. The coffee table was a little battered with more coffee cup rings ingrained than what one person could have done alone. There was a rickety looking bookcase in the far corner of the room piled up with tattered books; Dean kind of wanted to inspect further, especially to see whether they had that precious old book smell.

A few cat toys littered the old, exposed wooden floor here and there, which seemed to be the only new things in the room. A little pathetically, it made Dean’s heart warm that the guy who obviously didn’t have all that much was spending it on a little cat.

“You can place her down here.” Castiel gestured towards the couch which, too, was threadbare, though comfy looking. With a few too many cushions, Dean kind of wanted to throw himself on there and take a long nap. Instead, he simply put the half asleep cat on the couch, still curled up on Dean’s jacket, though a little less defensively now that she was home.

Ignoring Dean, Castiel sidestepped in front of him so he could kneel down on the floor, running a gentle hand through Ariel’s matted fur as he leant forward to press a barely there kiss between her ears. At the movement, Ariel’s eyes opened into slits, ready to attack even with her injured leg. As soon as she saw it was her owner and not Dean or the scary veterinarians, she relaxed, pushing her head up to Castiel’s chin to get further contact.

“It’s okay, Ariel,” Castiel’s voice rumbled, again the name sounding weird to Dean; he was second guessing whether it was Ariel or some weird hybrid of Anna and Ariel, “You’re safe now.”

Weirdly touched by the scene, Dean just stood there, forgetting about his soggy, heavy jeans and damp socks. None of it really seemed to matter now that he could see how relieved Castiel was for having his cat back. Dean had never been a cat person, or an animal person at all for that matter, but seeing a guy be that ecstatic to see his cat again made Dean realise that perhaps animals weren’t that bad after all.

“What happened to her?” Castiel asked, deep voice wavering when he forced himself to look away from his pet to instead gaze up at Dean.

“Er, the vet said she may have fallen funny or something; hit her leg against something she shouldn’t have,” Dean explained, hoping that he correctly remembered all the information that had been relayed to him; perhaps, again, he should have asked Jess to stay for this bit. “She hasn’t broken anything,” Dean reassured Castiel as soon as he saw his eyes start to go worryingly round. At the news, Castiel’s shoulders sunk in relief, though he placed a gentle, protective hand on Ariel’s back. As Dean watched, he couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened to his own fingers if he’d tried that with the cat.

Dean’s voice softened as he added, with a hopefully comforting smile, “I think she got a little over adventurous, got hurt, and then couldn’t find her way back to you.”

Castiel’s eyes warmed as he smiled up with so much gratitude that it nearly blinded Dean. “But you found her and brought her back to me.”

“It’s not a big deal. I did what anyone would have done.” Dean shrugged, cheeks colouring at the fact he felt like he was being praised for something so damn small. It wasn’t like he’d pressed the cat’s chest up and down until she started breathing again. He’d just took her to the damn vets. The appreciation pouring from Castiel was making him more than a little overwhelmed. Dean wasn’t used to this sort of shit.

“You found her in an alley way, I’m sure a lot of people walked past there and didn’t help her,” Castiel replied with a downturned mouth, his fingers protectively running through Ariel’s fur, lulling her to sleep.

Dean coughed. “Anyway,” he swiftly changed the subject, uncomfortable with the current one and the way Castiel’s bright eyes were looking a little too reverent, “the vet said she just needs to chill out and not go out for a few days. And you should try and stop her if she tries to go too crazy and starts racing around and jumping on things. Oh, and she has some pain medication.” Dean rummaged in the surprisingly deep back pocket of his jeans to grab the small bottle of medication. “Here.” He handed it over to a kneeling Castiel, who took it from him and squinted at the label, making Dean wonder whether the guy needed glasses.

“She has to take it with her food every morning for the next five days. It has it all on the packaging of how to do it and stuff. After the five days are up, I guess you can take the bandage off and she’s free to go wild again.” Dean shrugged, hands slotting into his pockets.

Nodding, Castiel stood up, carefully placing the medication onto the used coffee table before staring intently at Dean. “How much did it cost?”

Surprised at the turn of conversation and the way Cas was staring him out, Dean ended up looking like an idiot as he shook his head, stuttering, “It doesn’t matter, I don’t—”

“How much?” Castiel reiterated, “I’ll-“ he frowned, looking downtrodden, “I’ll write you a cheque or give you cash, depending on how much it was.” He lifted his chin. “She’s my responsibility, I can’t have you paying for her. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Feeling a little like he would be stealing candy from a baby, Dean wanted to say no. This guy, in his tattered house in one of the rougher parts of town, clearly didn’t have a wad load of cash to burn on bills. But Dean knew that if Cas was as stubborn as Dean could be when it came to getting help, the guy wasn’t going to relent.

“It was 120 bucks,” Dean sighed. “It was higher than normal because she was an emergency appointment.”

“Okay. Let me—“ Castiel rushed over to the armchair, gently bumping Dean out the way so he could get past. “Let me find my wallet.” He rummaged in the coat that was strewn over the chair, looking slightly damp from the rain. Dean could relate to that. He was caught off guard when he realised with a narrow of his eyes that it was a trench coat of all thing; jesus, the guy had a weird dress sense.

After a moment of rooting around in his wallet, Castiel changed his mind and moved over to the bookcase, reaching up to grab a little bird ornament off the top shelf. Dean quickly realised that it was a money box as Castiel turned it over and pulled the bottom seal off. Silently, Dean watched Castiel count out the money with a barely there movement of his pink lips, adding the money to the cash he’d found in his wallet. The more Dean watched, the more his heart felt heavy that this guy was jumping into his savings to pay Dean back.

“Here,” Castiel said, gathering up the notes, “take the extra twenty as a thank you.”

Dean’s eyes widened at the gesture. “No,” he bit back, far more forcibly than he intended to.

Castiel thrust the notes into Dean’s chest. “Please,” he reiterated, voice deepening as he begged.

“Nu-uh, not gonna happen buddy.” Dean shook his head, ready to win the argument, “I’ll take the 120, but that’s it,” he finalised. Truthfully, he didn’t even want to take the 120 off him, not from a guy who clearly didn’t have that kind of cash at hand easily. Dean was definitely _not_ going to take any more from the guy than necessary, no fucking way. In fact, now that he thought about it, he wished he’d lied and took a few twenties off the vet bill when he’d told Castiel the price.

After a beat of silence, Castiel relented with a huff, “Fine.” He removed the extra twenty and only then did Dean take the cash from him, shoving it in his back pocket where the medication had once been. He just hoped the notes didn’t get too damp on his way home. Deep down, Dean knew he’d made the right decision not to take the extra cash, even though Castiel looked sulky that he hadn’t gotten what he wanted. Castiel would be grateful for it in the end, even if he never admitted it, not even to himself.

“I’m Dean by the way. Dean Winchester,” Dean added with a grin, only just realising that he hadn’t introduced himself yet. He was standing in someone’s living room, dripping onto their wooden floor as he took cash from them, but had somehow forgotten not to say his fucking name. _Well done, Winchester._

“Oh.” Castiel blinked in recognition of their shared faux pas. “Yes. I’m Castiel.”

“Yeah, I know. Wasn’t sure how to pronounce it though,” Dean admitted as he tried to ignore how wet and cold his feet were starting to get. Dean wasn’t exactly used to going around new people’s houses, not anymore, but he at least knew that it wasn’t considered appropriate to ask to borrow their shower and some clothes. Even though Dean r _eally_ wanted both of those things right now.

Castiel nodded, fingers curling over the long sleeves of his sweater. “It is a rather unusual name I suppose.”

“Understatement,” Dean snorted, automatically feeling shitty that he was making fun of someone’s name. Not just anyone, but a stranger who had just handed over 120 bucks. Desperate to change the subject, Dean looked around the room, fixating on the cat rather than one of the few pieces of furniture. Ariel was completely dead to the world. God if cats could snore ( _could they snore?_ ), she would be right now.

“So, strange name for a cat,” Dean hummed, trying not to feel too self-conscious about his previous minor insult, “but I guess she does have a bit of ginger in her.”

At Castiel’s inquisitive glance, Dean added awkwardly, “You know, Ariel the mermaid?”

Even still, Castiel looked confused, looking at Dean like a second head had just sprouted from his neck. Like it was Dean in the wrong and not Cas being a total weirdo for not knowing who Ariel the damn mermaid was.

“She’s called Aniel, not Ariel,” Castiel explained. “Like Ariel, but with an N." He sat down next to _Aniel,_ who didn’t even stir.

Taking that as some kind of invitation, Dean chose to sit on the edge of the armchair that was facing the couch Cas had placed himself. Careful not to put too much of his ass on it else he’d soak the damn thing through, Dean asked with a wrinkled brow, “Ann-Aniel?”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded with a small smile, little crinkles forming in the corner of his eyes as he looked down at the peaceful cat at his side. “Most of the time, I just call her Anna.”

“Huh.” Dean hummed. If he’d thought Ariel was a weird fucking name then Aniel took the fucking cake. “Have you had her since she was a kitten?” he asked politely, though he quickly realised he was actually interested in the answer rather than pretending to give a shit.

“No.” Castiel ran a hand through his dark hair, making it even messier, promptly causing Dean’s fingers to twitch as they begged to leap over and sort out the tufts. “She was never technically my cat.”

Dean blinked. “What?” He looked from Castiel to the cat, wondering whether he’d made some big mistake bringing the cat to the house or something. Maybe the microchip had been wrong. But Castiel had been happy to see her and knew her name. Okay, _what the hell?_

Ducking his chin down to smile as he noticed Dean’s confusion, Castiel explained, “I moved here to this state and town a month and a half ago. Aniel was hanging around the back yard.” He turned his gaze to the cat, running feather-like fingers across the cat’s spine. “She was a lot scruffier back then, thinner too. I gave her some water. I didn’t have any food to give her at the time, none that I knew would be safe for her, but she kept coming back anyway. She’s not feral.” Castiel looked up at Dean. “She’s too friendly to humans to have been feral.”

“Friendly?” Dean raised an eyebrow, because one word he would not use to explain that damn cat was friendly _._ Brutal, maybe. One who inflicts pain? Definitely. But _friendly?_

“Ah, yes.” Castiel smiled. “She can have an attitude sometimes. But she didn’t seem feral. Actually, I think she might have been owned by the people who lived in this house before me. It would make sense as to why she kept coming back.” He looked troubled. “I don’t know why they wouldn’t have taken her with them though.”

“If you’re right, they’re fuckheads.” Dean’s hands turned into fists as he thought of the audacity of someone being cruel, not only to any old animal, but to their own pet. “At least she has you now though,” he smiled, quickly realising that Castiel was most definitely a stand-up guy. Rescuing little kittens in his backyard? Yep, Castiel was definitely good people.

Castiel’s gaze turned from Dean, making Dean slowly realise that the guy either stared at you so hard it felt like he was looking into your damn soul, or he looked away from you entirely as he spoke. “When she kept coming back, I quickly realised I should microchip her and let her have a once over by a vet. I thought if anything were to happen, I would be contacted and I would do everything to make sure she was well again. So now she’s unofficially officially mine.” The corners of his lips tilted upwards fondly. “Though she forgets that sometimes. She can go missing for a few days, like she’s forgotten me. But she’d been gone for a while this time and it’s not like her. I was worried something had happened,” his strong voice wobbled. “And apparently I was right.”

At Cas’ heartbroken expression, Dean didn’t waste any time in standing up to sit next to him on the couch instead, squeezing his shoulder, “Hey, she’s gonna be okay,” he comforted; Dean hated seeing anyone upset, it made him feel helpless, wishing he could have the pain instead of the other person. Even if it was a stranger like Castiel.

Surprised, Castiel peered down at Dean’s hand like it was a foreign object. Like he didn’t expect anyone to try and cheer him up. It made Dean uncertain as to where to go from there. What sort of a person didn’t expect someone to console them? Perhaps a guy living in a barely furnished house whose only company seemed to be a cat that he’d adopted and was willing to spend all of his savings on its vet bill, that’s who. Somehow, that didn’t seem fair to Dean, not one fucking bit. Weren’t people like Cas supposed to be the ones who were looked after? Who got the good end of the deal? But then again, Dean had long stopped thinking that people got what they deserved.

For some reason, Castiel’s eyes were widening and he was grabbing Dean’s wrist to keep his arm there so he could inspect it. “She scratched you.”

Dean fought the urge to snatch his hand back. He liked contact, sometimes even craved it, but only by people he knew and cared for. Whilst Castiel seemed like a stand-up guy, Dean wasn’t quite in that stage with him yet. Especially not contact he wasn’t prepared for. But when he realised the reason behind Castiel reaching for him, Dean relaxed.

“Only a couple of times. By the end of it all, she kinda liked me,” Dean joked, hoping to hide how uncomfortable he was.

Still looking very concerned, Castiel asked as he slowly let go of Dean’s wrist like it was made of glass, “Have you cleaned the cuts yet?”

“Uh, no?” Dean phrased it as a question, having not even considered that. _Shit,_ he was supposed to have cleaned them, wasn’t he? Cats got up to all sorts of shit and now he had that shit deep in his skin. God, Dean could be an idiot sometimes. If his arm fell off, it would be his own damn fault.

Almost like he could hear Dean’s thoughts, Castiel murmured, “Here, let me.”

Without waiting for a reply, Castiel stood up, gesturing for Dean to do the same. As soon as Dean was on his feet, Castiel reached over and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, guiding him to the small kitchen. Even though the hand was unnecessary— Dean could see where the kitchen was with his own eyes thank you very much—Dean actually thought it was kind of sweet of the guy to be so fretful about the whole thing. The dude obviously wasn’t used to visitors as much as Dean wasn’t used to being the visitor.

“I have some antiseptic wipes that can clean the cuts. Anna sometimes scratches me and they always work then,” Castiel said as he reached up to look in one of the cupboards above the counters.

Disinterested in watching Cas rummage around a cupboard, Dean looked away, putting his attention on his surroundings instead. The kitchen was much the same as the living room: empty looking, one of the cupboard doors hanging on loosely, which made Dean want to speak up and offer to fix it. Unsure of whether that would be seriously crossing a line that should not be crossed, Dean kept quiet, instead focussing on the various novelty mugs Castiel had in a neat row on the counter.

Without much time, Castiel was standing a little too close to Dean as he ripped open the packaging to get to an antiseptic wipe. Just as the wipe was about the touch Dean’s skin, Cas carefully holding Dean’s wrist to keep it still again, Castiel stopped, looking up at Dean with a concentrated expression. “This might hurt.”

Pulling a face, Dean sarcastically said, “I think I’ll be—“ the wipe made contact with the scratches and Dean felt like he was having his arm amputated. “Oh jesus fucking _christ_ ,” Dean swore, gritting his teeth as he fought the incredible urge to punch Castiel in the face, even though it wasn’t the guy’s fault.

“I told you it might hurt.” Cas bit back a smile as he continued to wipe at the cuts embedded into Dean’s skin.

“Okay, Mr Know It All,” Dean grumbled, though he couldn’t help but grin when he said it. He liked the fact that Cas had a good sense of humour that could bite the other person on the ass. Someone like Castiel who lived in a house like he did needed a bite.

After another two antiseptic wipes, Castiel was finished. “All done,” he smiled far too innocently. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Oh it was fucking perfect,” Dean retorted with a roll of his eyes, smiling widely so as to further the sarcasm.

Still trying to hide his laughter, Castiel concealed his face as he threw the spoiled wipes in the trash can before he washed his hands. With nothing else to do, Dean watched him, noting that there was dirt ingrained into the lines of Cas’ hands, under his fingernails too. For a moment, Dean wondered whether Cas’ nice guy act was indeed an act and really he was some raging psychopath that dug up people’s graves in the night. The thought was instantly severed when Castiel looked over at him and smiled.

“Anyway,” Dean said, realising that he perhaps might have overstayed his welcome and that he also really needed to go home and get to bed seeing as he was making up weirdo conspiracies in his head, “I should be heading back home.” He thumbed towards where the peeling front door was.

“Oh.” Castiel nodded. “Yes. I suppose so. Do you want me to drive you? Your friend left…” he trailed off.

“No, it’s fine,” Dean reassured him with a shake of his head and an easy smile that he had perfected over the years, “I can walk,” he said, shutting it down as quickly as possible. It was always easier that way.

“Are you sure? It wouldn’t be a problem,” Castiel continued, taking a step forward, back to the staring thing he did. Seriously, how did Cas get away with this continuing staring out in the real world without getting punched in the face?

“Seriously, it’ll be okay.” Dean peered through the dark window to his left. “It’s stopped raining out anyway, so it’ll be a nice walk. Besides,” Dean thought aloud, “you should probably keep an eye on Anna,” Dean chose the easier name, as he knew he’d screw up the other one, “make sure she doesn’t try and do anything too strenuous,” he added. He had a very good feeling that a cat like Aniel wouldn’t try and follow the rules like she was supposed to. And by doing that, she’d given Dean a perfect excuse for Castiel not to give him a ride.

“Oh,” Castiel worded slowly, “yes, I guess so,” he said, following Dean back into the living room.

Dean suddenly had a thought as he looked down at Anna’s sleeping frame, “Um, could you maybe drop my coat off at my apartment? I’ve got a feeling that if I try and take it off her, she’s going to go for the throat. And I don’t really want to wake her up. She kind of deserves the rest after the long day she’s had.”

It was only then that Castiel seemed to realise that Aniel was on Dean’s jacket, “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, privately hoping that the rain would stay off for the next hour so he wouldn’t get wet. Again. But without a jacket this time.

“I’ve got my phone and keys and stuff in my pocket,” Dean told him, patting his jeans to further the point, “so it’s just the coat your cat has stolen,” he grinned toothily. “Let me give you my number and then we can arrange a time or whatever for you to come to my apartment and hand it back.”

It took mere minutes for them to swap numbers, Castiel carefully typing ‘ _Dean Winchester’_ in his old Nokia phone that looked like the size and heaviness of a brick. Simply, Dean wrote the guy down as ‘ _Cas_ ’ in his contacts list.

“Goodbye Dean,” Castiel said when they got to the front door, his arms coming up to hug himself again when he felt the cool air. The ratty sweater probably wasn’t warming him up as much as it should. “And thank you. Again. You have no idea how thankful I am.”

“You’re welcome, buddy,” Dean said, gruffness in his tone; he really wasn’t used to someone talking to him like that, jesus. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Yes,” Castiel nodded in agreement, “I’ll call you.”

“See you, Cas,” Dean called, waving at Cas with his back turned as he started to walk down the few steps from Castiel’s house to the pavement, the empty plant pots on either side of him filling with dirty rain water, some of them overfilling.

Without looking back, Dean heard the worn door shut behind him. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Dean started to walk. Five minutes in, the rain started to hammer back down again, soaking Dean to the bone.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Weekends were one of the few times that Dean really let himself relax. Sure, over the weekdays, he enjoyed his job, had fun during his lunch hour, and sometimes went out at night with his friends, but the weekend was the time where he could really kick back and try and forget his troubles.

Pretty much all of his friends had the weekend off, which made it easier to meet up to do random things, though Sammy was often overworked with assignment after assignment, much like Jess. Someone always seemed to be busy when the gang tried to congregate. Dean sometimes thought that that was the universe getting involved. Having all of his friends in one room at the same time would probably result in some loud, obnoxious fun that would end up in disaster. He loved his friends to death; there were many good words he could say about them. Quiet, calm and collected were not on the list.

Sometimes Dean would even go off out in the hopes of getting laid, picking up a chick and going home with her for the night. If he were to do that, he always had to stick to the bar nearest to his place. Nowadays, Dean rarely did it as it was a hassle to find new women in a local bar who wanted to hook up. Having a soft, curved body underneath him wasn’t all that if it was so much of a fucking problem to get her there. Nowadays, he tended to save hook ups for random women he met in random places, like someone coming into his work who needed their car fixing. That way, he could plan a future hook up and things wouldn’t get complicated or uncomfortable because Dean wouldn’t have to awkwardly try and explain why he wasn’t going to give them a ride home.

For this weekend, Dean had planned on something simpler; a grocery run that he’d done yesterday morning, some light reading earlier, and a hell of a lot of watching television. Just as he was about to enjoy his last day of the weekend before he was back at work and turn on one of his guilty pleasure programmes (hey, _Doctor Sexy MD_ was a fucking great tv show, okay?), the intercom was buzzing. Frowning, Dean paused the television and made his way over, pressing the button to hear whoever the fuck it was. Sure, Cas was coming by later to finally give him his coat back, but that was _later._

“Hello,” he said. It was rare for one of his friends to turn up unannounced, even rarer for his brother to bother using the intercom instead of just clambering up with his gigantic legs and knocking on the door.

“Dean? It’s Castiel.” He sounded unsure, voice even deeper through the wire. “The person whose cat you saved?”

“Oh,” Dean realised aloud. a voice like that was hard to forget. For the sake of the guy on the phone, Dean stopped himself from laughing at the fact that Cas had felt the need to elaborate, like Dean would either forget a name like Castiel or know more than one of them.

“Come on up. Oh, and just a tip, use the stairs instead of the elevator. It’s only five flights and it’s better to do that than get stuck in that death trap,” Dean hinted; he’d only ever used the elevator a handful of times and he’d regretted nearly all of them, besides the ones where he was too drunk to remember them. His landlord didn’t really give a shit about anything unless it had to do with unpaid rent. In the space of nearly seven years, Dean had only ever seen the guy once– when he’d been given keys to the apartment. Other than that, it was kind of a free for all. Thankfully, everyone in the block kept to themselves and didn’t cause any trouble in the eight storey building. For the most part, it was people Dean’s age or younger, either by themselves or with their girlfriend or boyfriend. The apartments were only one bedroom, four apartments to each floor, so it wasn’t really a noisy place besides that one summer where an obnoxious kid had came in and hosted parties every other night. Dean had put a stop to that one. And quick.

“Okay,” Castiel replied, voice going fuzzy because of the crappy reception.

“See you in a sec.”

Dean turned off the intercom and buzzed for Cas to be let in. With a quick glance to the wooden clock he’d made when he was a kid with his father (though his father had done most of the work or it wouldn’t still be in one piece), he noted that Castiel was early. A good three hours earlier than expected. Hey, at least Dean was a neat freak and his apartment was already clean.

Even with the five flights of stairs to tackle, it didn’t take long until he heard a knock on the door. Unlike some of Dean’s unfit, complaining friends, Castiel obviously did some kind of exercise. It wasn’t surprising; he hadn’t exactly looked weak and wiry the last time Dean had seen him, even with the baggy sweater covering him up.

As Dean hadn’t moved from the spot at the intercom phone, he was right next to the door, opening it swiftly as soon as Castiel started to knock.  He found a slightly bedraggled looking Castiel, like he’d ran from his car into the apartment complex as quickly as possible to avoid the rain.

“I’m early, sorry,” he apologised, eyes sincere before he did that maddening thing again where he looked away from Dean’s gaze. “I tried to call you but your phone wasn’t working so I thought I would just try and turn up early anyway.” He half shrugged, finally looking back up at Dean.

Remembering earlier in the morning where he’d noticed that his phone was about to die and how he’d promised himself that he’d charge it as soon as he got up, Dean cursed, “Shit, I forgot to put my phone on charge. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel brushed it aside, explaining as he rubbed his hand through his damp hair, the hairs behind his ears starting to curl slightly, “With the bad weather, I couldn’t really continue at work and my boss had nothing for me to do at the shop so she sent me home. I thought it would be simpler for me to come and try to see you first instead of going home, drying off, and then coming back out again later.”

Just as Dean was about to ask what kind of job Castiel did that meant he couldn’t continue in the rain, Castiel was lifting the object in his hand with an endearing smile.

“I brought your coat, as promised.”

Dean blinked, trying to catch up with the switch of conversation  as he took the folded coat from Cas’ hands. “Thanks,” He smoothed over the leather of the jacket as he asked conversationally, “How’s Anna getting on?”

“She’s a little crabby”—Castiel smiled in a special way that Dean had already dubbed the ‘Aniel Smile’, a curl of the corners of Cas’ lip and a sparkle in his eyes especially for her—“but she only needs to stay in for a few more days for precaution and then she can go out again. Her leg seems almost back to normal.” He leant in slightly, as if to conspire. “She doesn’t enjoy being cooped up.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I bet she doesn’t.” He looked down at his jacket and then back up at a slightly damp Castiel. “You want to come in? I make a good cup of coffee,” he offered, unsure of whether it would be accepted. They were pretty much strangers. Although, Dean couldn’t help but think back to the night he’d walked home from Cas’ in the rain, how five minutes into the journey Castiel must have seen the weather, offering him through text for him to come find him and give him a ride. Of course, Dean had politely declined. Still, they might be strangers, but Dean could tell that Cas was a nice guy. The least Dean could do was offer a coffee to him and a warm place to dry off before heading back out into the rain.

Peering into the apartment like it held all the answers, Castiel, as if it was the most important question of his life, asked gravely, “Do you have tea?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean turned back into his apartment, beckoning for Cas to follow. “You’re a tea freak, huh?”

“I don’t like coffee, it tastes funny.” Cas’ nose crinkled distastefully as he followed Dean into the apartment, “But tea is my weakness,” he admitted with a wry grin.

“I think I might have a few teabags somewhere, just gotta find them,” Dean said. He wasn’t  really one for tea, but Jess liked it and would have his head if she ever had a craving for them when she visited and he didn’t have any. Tea addicts were fucking terrifying.

Dean gestured towards Cas’ jacket. “Here, I’ll take that.”

Cas shrugged off the god awful trench coat, handing it to Dean with careful precision. One day, when they were better friends and could poke fun at each other without it being awkward, Dean would ask about that damn jacket and why Castiel had thought buying it was a good idea. Mind you, the sweater underneath wasn’t much better, an ugly striped thing that was a garish green and red – a knock off Christmas sweater perhaps.

Shaking his head and biting back a smile, Dean hung up Castiel’s coat alongside his own, hoping it would dry off by the time Cas left. After that, Dean led them to the kitchen, which was decked out with all the best things that he could afford seeing as one of Dean’s favourite things to do was cook. The cupboards were wood, the top of the counters a crisp white that Dean always scrubbed clean. One wall had the brick exposed, where the table was pressed up against it. There was nothing fancy about any of it, not really, but Dean liked how it went together.

“How many sugars do you take?” Dean asked behind his shoulder.

“Three, please,” Castiel replied.

“Three?” Dean raised his eyebrows, nearly offended. “Jesus, how do you still have teeth?” he remarked, opening the cupboards to find a teabag somewhere or other.

As he leant back against the kitchen counter, Castiel did that half shrug again, his sweater slipping down to expose his collarbone at the movement. “I like it sweet.” He tilted his head to the side as he smiled innocently.

Snorting, Dean found the box of teabags shoved to the back of the cupboard. “Yeah, I can see that.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence as Dean turned the kettle on and set up the coffee machine. Rare was it that Dean found someone he could be comfortable with after only knowing them for so long. Even then, the other shoe always tended to drop at some point when they realised how odd Dean was. How much of a mess. Not many new people in Dean’s life stuck around for long, which always made him all the more grateful to his friends who did.

“I felt bad,” Castiel spoke after a few seconds of silence, “that you had to walk home in the rain when you brought back Aniel. It didn’t seem fair to you, especially after doing such a good deed.” Castiel looked genuinely upset about it, eyes a little sad as he looked over at Dean.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Dean shrugged it off, not really wanting to get into it too much; if they did, he’d end up having to explain his problem and then Cas would get that look on his face that everyone did when they found out. And Dean didn’t want that, not yet at least. No, it was best not to talk about cars or driving or getting rides.

“It was only a bit of rain, I was already wet anyway so it didn’t really matter…” Dean trailed off, pouring out the bubbling water into the mug he’d randomly picked out for Cas, a plain white one that had ‘ _Don’t forget to be awesome_ ’ emblazoned on the side. “But thanks for messaging me and offering to come find me.” Dean flashed a smile Cas’ way before stirring Cas’ cup, squeezing the teabag with a teaspoon before lugging it out.

“I would have just driven and gotten you anyway, but I didn’t know which way you’d gone,” Castiel explained. And Dean just knew that Cas would have done that if he’d genuinely felt like he would have been able to find Dean. He would have gotten into his car and drove around to find a stranger so they wouldn’t have had to walk home in the rain. Jesus, this guy might be too nice for his own good.

Silently grateful that Castiel hadn’t decided to do that, Dean just smiled as he waited for the coffee machine to finish up. “Do you want milk?”

“Oh, yes please, But not too much,” Castiel said, tapping his fingers against the counter he was leaning against, a non-rhythmic beat. Again, Dean realised that the guy had dirt caked under his fingernails.

“Right,” Dean nodded, grabbing the milk out of the fridge, just as the coffee machine finally finished.

“I like your apartment,” Castiel said warmly, looking at the kitchen’s interior with a pleased expression, “it’s very cosy. It has that familiar feeling, like some homes have.”

“Thanks.” Dean preened at the compliment. “I’ve lived here ever since my last year at college so I’ve been here for a good seven years or so now. When I first got here, the place was kind of a mess. It needed a lot of things to be done to make it feel like home, y’know? But it feels that way now,” Dean replied, thinking back to when he’d first gotten the place. In truth, it had been in okay shape, but nothing had felt like his own, which had sucked because he’d spent the last three years at college feeling exactly the same. After a while of tinkering, the place had slowly started to feel like home, strangely even more so when it had become his haven, the place he’d hid in to keep away from the world.

“You went to college?” Castiel asked whilst watching Dean pour in the milk. “What did you study?”

“Yeah, the community college that’s in the outskirts of the town over.” Dean tried to lessen it, hating that Cas sounded like he was impressed even though it wasn’t impressive at all in Dean’s eyes. All he’d done was go to community college and get a degree; he didn’t even really move away to do it, too afraid to miss his little brother. So he’d chosen the college in the town next door, barely two hours away from his family.

Growing up, Dean had always wanted to go to college, get the experience of it and learn more things. Stupidly, he’d had all sorts of ideas of what he’d do once he graduated, what he could do with his degree, how he could make his family and himself proud. And he’d enjoyed the four years, an incredible amount. But then all of it had been tarnished at graduation; spoiled. Then again, a lot of people’s dreams had been ruined that day.

“I studied engineering, though to be honest, I haven’t done much with it,” Dean scratched at his stubble, feeling the urge for a cigarette because of the topic of conversation and how it was reminding him of other things he’d prefer not to think about. “I work at the local garage my uncle owns, er, _Singer & Winchester’s Auto Shop_. I don’t need a degree for that so I guess it was a waste of time,” he explained, choosing not to mention that he had once owned a part of the garage too, so had his brother, but they’d sold it back to Bobby, giving him full ownership. Sam had never cared about garages and cars like Dean did. And well, Dean just hadn’t wanted to own it, not now, not yet. He’d told everyone that he didn’t want the responsibility, but deep down, he knew it was because he felt like he didn’t deserve it.

“It’s not a waste if you enjoyed it and learnt some valuable things,” Castiel spoke, sincerity in his tone. “And you’re still young, you could use your degree for a multitude of things in the future. The world is your... Ah, I—“ His cheeks pinked as he admitted, “I don’t know the end of the saying.”

“Oyster,” Dean finished for him, chuckling. “The world is your oyster.”

Learning the statement only confused Castiel further, who squinted at Dean, “What sort of a saying it that?”

“Who the fuck knows.” Dean shook his head with a grin. “Most sayings don’t make any sense anyway.” He picked up Cas’ tea and carefully placed it closer to where Cas was leaning against the counter. “Drink your sugar. I mean, your tea,” he teased, going back to his earlier position to pour out his coffee.

“Very funny,” Castiel said dryly, picking up his cup with both hands as he blew the top of the drink, lips distractedly chapped.

“Come on,” Dean grinned, “let’s go sit down.” He nodded towards the living room where they’d been only minutes before, “No point in standing if you don’t have to.”

“I suppose not,” Castiel agreed with the statement, following Dean with his cup in his hands.

Dean had always prided himself on his apartment and how he’d gotten it to look. When he’d first moved in, the place had been very much a bachelor pad; exposed brick walls, dirty wooden floors, bathroom needing a lick of paint to make it a place that Dean would want to sink into a bath and relax. Dean had slowly but surely cleaned it up, sanding down and varnishing the wooden floors so there was no worry of kicking up a nail, covering most walls except a few so it felt less like he was living in a derelict house.

The style of the living room was much the same as the rest of the apartment: cosy, inviting, and an impressive amount of woodwork. Dean didn’t tell many people that he’d made a lot of the furniture himself, carving it with his bare hands and some handy instruments. The coffee table was something he’d made himself, the bookshelf too, amongst other things littered around the apartment. Those who were close to him knew about his woodwork skills, though he hadn’t made anything for years now. Newer people in his life had no idea of Dean’s talent. If he told them that he’d made the coffee table, then he’d have to explain that his father was the one who had taught him how to do it in the first place. And then he’d have to explain where his father was now. And that was never a conversation piece he wanted to get into, not with any old random person anyway.

As Dean and Cas settled into the leather sofa suite, both of them on either end of the same couch, Dean asked conversationally, “What about you, did you go to college?”

A pregnant pause lingered between them for a moment, long enough for Dean to think he’d asked the wrong thing and then some. But then Cas was taking a quick sip of his tea before replying with a small smile, “No,” he said slowly, “I didn’t.”

“No pointless debts for you then,” Dean joked, settling on the couch properly by tucking his feet underneath him. It was only then that he realised he probably looked extremely casual for visitors; a plain grey long sleeved t-shirt that he’d found hidden in his drawer, and sweats that hadn’t been washed for a while. Castiel didn’t look like he minded though, which Dean supposed wasn’t that much of a shock. Dean was lounging in his own apartment on a Sunday, it’s not like he was going to be dressed in a tux.

“No, I suppose not,” Castiel smiled, which looked awfully forced. Instantly, Dean felt like a douche, especially as he thought back to Cas’ house and how unfurnished it had been, how he’d had to jump into his savings to pay Dean back. While he might not have college debt, he could have other debt for all Dean knew. Or he was just hard off. Besides, Dean didn’t even _have_ debt; his mom and dad had made a college fund for him ever since he was a baby and it paid nearly all of the fees. All Dean had had to do was afford to live in a dorm and that was all, no worries about money in sight. Yeah, Dean was a douche.

“Uh...” Dean tried to think of a way to switch the subject, remembering something he’d been thinking about since they’d met. “So, you’re new in town, right?”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded, looking more comfortable with the change in topic, taking another sip of his tea.

“Anyway, I was thinking that you must not have met loads of people yet, right?” Dean asked, noting how Cas nodded again. “So I thought that when Anna gets better, you could maybe come and hang out with me and some of my friends. We just go to our friend’s bar in town, nothing crazy. But I thought the more the merrier.” Dean shrugged, careful not to spill his coffee. “It’s a way for you to meet some more people in town anyway.”

“Oh,” Castiel blinked, looking a little bewildered at the offer, “Yes. That would be good.”

“You don’t have to, I just thought I’d ask…” Dean trailed off awkwardly, realising that Cas probably didn’t want to see him or any of his friends after this. He’d just wanted to give Dean his damn coat back, dry off from the rain with a cup of tea, and then never see Dean again. And Dean was making it weird by asking. They barely knew each other; while Dean thought Cas was a good guy and wouldn’t mind adding him to his group of friends, that didn’t mean that Cas _wanted_ to be added.

“No,” Castiel quickly spoke over Dean, quashing Dean’s thoughts, “I would like to.” He smiled, eyes warm as he took another gulp of tea, still endearingly cupping it with both hands. “You’re right. I haven’t been in this town for very long and the only people I know are people from work and the mailman. And while I’d categorise one or two from work as my friends, I would like more.” He looked down at his tea and then back at Dean, staring at him squarely in the eyes as he spread his lips into a gummy smile. “So yes, I would like that very much.”

“Okay, awesome,” Dean grinned, more relieved that he thought he would be at the prospect of Cas wanting to be his friend; it was odd, Dean hadn’t been like that with someone for a long time. There was a reason why he’d stopped bothering to make new friends. But here he was, happy that he’d made a possible new one.

“Next time I’m going out with them all, I’ll message you and you can come if you want,” Dean offered. “Like I said, we just tend to meet up at our friend’s bar and act like assholes.” His smile turned wider as he thought about his friends and how ridiculous they truly were. Well, they had to be ridiculous to have dealt with him for so long.

“Admittedly, that sounds enjoyable to me.” Castiel smiled in a way that showed he was playing into Dean’s joke, his eyes crinkling.

“It is kinda fun,” the corner of Dean’s lips curled up, only to downturn moments later when he jumped for his fucking life because someone was knocking on the door.

“Expecting someone?” Castiel asked over his cup of tea, eyebrows raised.

“Not really, but my little brother just tends to turn up unannounced,” Dean said dryly with a good naturedly roll of his eyes; he placed his cooling coffee on the coffee table before making his way to the front door yet again. Unsurprisingly, he found his beaming brother behind it.

Sometimes, Dean would wonder why the hell the world had decided that he would one day have to look _up_ at his _little_ brother. And not just have Sam be slightly taller, but actually turn him into a fully-fledged giant. At least he was a friendly giant though; no one could ever say that Sam was a mean spirited person. For someone his size who could easily use his height to force things out of people if he wanted, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. His height didn’t stop Dean from being overprotective though, not after all the shit he’d been through, though most people probably couldn’t tell by looking at him.

Brown hair getting longer by the day, long enough for it to fall to the back of his neck and cover his eyebrows, the ends flicking out behind his ears; Dean wished that one night he could sneak into his and Jess’ apartment and shave it off to see Sam’s reaction. The poor kid would probably cry or something, but that was the total opposite of how he normally was, always smiling, even to strangers on the street. With his dimples showing as he gave people his dumb puppy face, he pretty much made everyone putty in his hands.

But then there were times when he wasn’t all cutesy, dopey smiles; sometimes there were moments when he was half his height because he was hunched in on himself, when his bottom lip and nails were torn to shreds because he couldn’t stop picking at them. When Sam had a bad time, it showed. Yeah, it was no wonder Dean was overprotective of him.

“Hey!” Dean crossed his arms, pretending to be annoyed, “Ever heard of calling to say you’re coming around?”

“Whatever, Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes, completely ignoring the remark like he always did because he knew that Dean didn’t really care that he came over unannounced. In fact, as in a few months’ time Sam would be jetting off two towns over to go to law school, so Dean wanted to see him as much as possible.

“Oh.” Sam stopped in his tracks when he realised Dean wasn’t alone. “Hi,” Sam said, smiling at Cas before looking at Dean questioningly. Dean understood the confusion; Dean rarely had visitors and if he did, Sam knew all of them besides the random hook ups who didn’t normally wait around for tea and coffee. Oh, and they were _women_.

“Cas,” Dean said, “this is Sam, my brother.” He gestured towards his towering brother who, like Cas had been when he’d arrived, was a little damp around the edges, “And he’s the boyfriend of the woman you saw in the car, Jess.”

Sam frowned. “I thought it was Castiel.”

“Yeah, Castiel.” Dean waved his hand dismissively, cheeks tinting pink as he realised he’d started using a nickname to a guy that one: he didn’t know that well, and two: he hadn’t even checked with the guy to make sure it was okay.

“You can call me Cas though.” Castiel stood up, holding the tea in one hand as he took a step forward, hand outstretched. “Hello Sam, it’s nice to meet you,” he smiled welcomingly.

Sam took the few steps towards Cas, taking his hand and shaking it. “So you’re the guy whose cat Dean heroically rescued, huh?” he joked, eyes twinkling as he looked over at Dean. God, since Jess had told everyone about Dean’s ‘heroic’ act, he’d heard nothing but it since. Of course, Sam was the worst, using it as teasing fodder all the damn time.

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean rolled his eyes, huffing as he threw himself back on the couch.

“Yes, I am that guy,” Castiel replied with a nod, ever serious, making the notion of teasing so much easier because he was catering to it without even _realising_ he was.

Sam laughed good heartedly before taking the other leather couch, throwing his coat on the arm of the chair which made Dean give him a death glare; nothing annoyed him more than his little brother coming to his apartment and messing up the cleanliness that Dean had worked so hard to perfect.

“I was surprised when Jess told me. Dean _hates_ animals,” Sam said with a grin as Castiel sat back down next to Dean, wriggling slightly to get into a comfortable position.

“I don’t hate them!” Dean shouted back defensively, really not wanting Cas ‘ _I adore my cat’_ Novak to think that. “I just don’t have a pet, that’s all,” he grumbled, “Doesn’t mean I hate them, jeez.”

Sam looked at him like he’d grew a second head, whilst Castiel said in a fond tone, “Dean definitely doesn’t hate animals or he would have left Aniel in the alley, especially after she scratched him,” he looked over at Dean, back to doing that damn reverent facial expression again – the guy really needed to stop doing that.

Distracted with what Cas had said, Sam stopped staring at Dean to instead wince, “God, I saw those scratches. Your cat has fight in her.”

Castiel’s gaze went back to Dean after Sam finished speaking, concern in his expression as the corners of his lips down pulled because he’d reminded himself of Dean getting hurt. “Are they healing, Dean?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Dean shrugged, not wanting to make too much of a big deal about it. Cas already thought that Dean was some kind of hero that deserved a fucking crown or something, he didn’t want Cas to have even more reasons as to why he should hold Dean on some kind of weird pedestal. Truthfully, Dean still had ugly marks etched onto his wrists and hands that stung like hell (especially in the shower. He’d swore a hell of a lot the first time he’d gotten into the tub since Aniel), but he knew they’d heal after a while. Castiel just didn’t need to know that; better for him to think that they were all nearly gone and didn’t hurt like a fucker.

“Oh god,” Sam suddenly complained dramatically, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean looked at his brother like he’d perhaps lost his mind. The conversation topic shouldn’t result in Sam overreacting like that. Especially as Sam looked like he was going to throw something at Dean’s head because he’d just told him he’d dyed Sam’s hair purple whilst he’d been asleep.

A cross between a grin and a scowl was on Sam’s face, like he was battling between laughing and rolling his eyes, “I just realised what TV show you have on pause,” he nodded his head towards the screen that was paused on Dr Sexy’s face as he gave a perfect, smouldering blue steel to the camera.

“Hey,” Dean crossed his arms petulantly, “ _Doctor Sexy MD_ is a classic, okay? Millions of people watch it and agree with me.”

“Oh come on,” Sam sighed, chuckling lightly, “it’s an awful show. Telling me about all the shitty soap opera awards it’s won isn’t going to change that,” he finalised with, raising his eyebrows to Dean as if challenging him to argue with him. This was something that they battled about all the time; Dean had perfected some good fucking points as to why the show kicked ass. Just as he was opening his mouth to retort, Castiel was speaking up.

“I watch it.” Castiel gazed at the screen, like he’d only just noticed the television in the room.

There was a pause, both Dean and Sam blinking at Cas as they both tried to decipher what Castiel had just said.

“You do?” Dean asked slowly, quickly grabbing his coffee off the table to hide his know it all grin. Oh, this was just fucking _perfect._

“Yes,” Castiel nodded, taking a large gulp of his tea. “I like watching television.” He looked back at the screen, a small smile on his lips, “I watch the re-runs over the weekend. It’s…”—he tipped his head to side, smile widening with warmth in his gaze—“interesting.”

“Ha,” Dean barked at Sam, slapping his thigh before pointing at his brother’s horrified face, “See Sammy, you’re the one in the minority here so you can go fuck yourself,” he grinned. In the corner of his eyes, he saw Cas’ eyes widen, mouth parting in surprise until he realised that Sam was grinning back at Dean. _Huh,_ Dean realised. The guy must not have any siblings if he wasn’t used to brothers talking shit to each other.

“Okay, I’ll tell all of our friends that you’ve found one other person who likes it.” Sam rolled his eyes for the fifty hundredth time. “Seven billion people on the planet, but you’ve only found _one_.”

“Hey,” Dean said,  ready to win the argument once and for all. “Jess likes it too!”

Sam snorted, arguing back, “Only because you forced her into watching it when she was cooped up sick. She had no choice!”

“Whatever,” Dean huffed, still privately (and publicly, come to think of it) pleased that he’d managed to get Jess hooked on the show. The look on Sam’s face when he’d realised what Dean had done had been priceless. It was easy to get someone hooked on a soap; you just dangled a few episodes of it in front of their face and in the end they were desperate to watch the next one to see whether Doctor Sexy had managed to successfully perform heart surgery on his long lost twin.

“I’m pretty sure Victor secretly watches it as well,” Dean added as an afterthought. Seriously, the amount of times Victor made fun of Dean for watching the trashy show was high, but Dean always suspected that when Victor was throwing insults, he knew a little _too_ much about the show to not have watched it at least once.

“Sure, Dean.” Sam sniggered like a child. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“Who cares, Cas and I like it, so there.” He pouted, smirking proudly as he grabbed the remote. “Let’s put it on,” he grinned, waiting for the inevitable reaction he’d get from his idiotic brother.

“Oh god, Dean.” Sam sat on the edge of his seat, clearly ready to stand up and literally throttle Dean if he pressed the play button. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Chill out Sammy.” Dean threw the remote at Sam’s chest, laughing when Sam made a tiny wounded noise at the hit. “I’m not going to put it on. I don’t want to watch it with you whining every five seconds.”

Scowling, Sam sat back down, holding the remote like it was a hostage situation. God, Sam could be a child sometimes, reminding Dean of when he was a snot nosed kid who would follow him around everywhere and ask him question after question because for some reason, Sam had thought Dean had all the answers.

“Anyway,” Cas coughed. “I should perhaps go.” He smiled, almost apologetically. “I don’t want to leave Aniel alone for too long and I’ve already left her for so long because of work.”

“Oh.” Dean frowned, but quickly masked it with a reassuring smile. Because he got it; Cas’ cat was sick right now and he completely understood why he needed to go, even though Dean had kind of been enjoying his company. It wasn’t often that Dean hung around new people that he actually wanted to stick around.

“Right, okay.” Dean stood up awkwardly, placing his coffee on the table as he went to unnecessarily lead Cas back to the front door that was only a few feet away. “Um, thanks for bringing back my coat.”

Shoulders relaxing, Castiel smiled up at Dean. “You’re welcome.” He stood up, empty cup in his hands like he didn’t know what to do with it.

“It’s alright, just leave the cup there, I’ll clean it up,” Dean told him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh.” Castiel placed his cup onto the coffee table, staring it down for a moment like he was incredibly unhappy with not cleaning it up himself,.“Okay.” He turned his gaze to Sam, smiling. “It was nice to meet you, Sam.”

“Nice to meet you too, man,” Sam grinned, dimples showing.

Still smiling, Castiel shuffled over to the front door where Dean was waiting for him with his trench coat. “Thank you,” Castiel said quietly as he took the coat from Dean’s hand. He pulled his arms into the sleeves with ease, so as Dean suspected, this was a familiar coat to Cas, something that he wore often enough to be able to throw it on without a problem. Just like Dean could do with his leather jacket.

“I’ll call you and let you know when my friends are meeting up, okay?” Dean offered, hoping that Cas still wanted to do that. For all Dean knew, he might have changed his mind after getting to know Dean some more. Especially after seeing how much of an idiot he could be around his brother. The poor guy was probably now understanding that when Dean had said he and his friends were dumb when they were all together, he hadn’t been kidding.

“Okay,” Castiel nodded, crushing Dean’s worries as he gave them both a half wave, “Goodbye, Dean.”

“See you around,” Dean replied, trying not to laugh at how Cas was more than a little awkward. But then it got a little sad when he remembered that Cas had said he didn’t really have any friends besides his workmates and the reason why he might be being awkward was because he wasn’t used to meeting new people and being someone’s house guest. He was probably just worried of doing something wrong. The thought was kind of depressing.

“Bye, Cas.” Dean waved at him, watching Cas walk down the corridor to the stairs before he shut the door behind him.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Sam commented, tilting his head back to look over at Dean.

“Yeah, I did tell you that, remember?” Dean said, distracted as he stared at his leather jacket, “He just seems a little…” he trailed off with a sigh.

“A little what?” Sam asked, confusion wrinkling between his brows.

Dean knew the word that he was looking for. _Lost._ It was in the whole of Castiel’s demeanour; the way he was new in town living in a barely furnished apartment, how he said he had barely any friends when he seemed like the kindest guy going, the constant surprise in his expression when Dean said something nice about him. All of it made Dean feel like Cas was lost and alone in the world. Just like how Aniel had been, hurt and huddled in an alley, inadvertently waiting for someone to notice.

But Dean didn’t feel it was right to tell Sam that. Even though Dean only knew Cas for a little longer than Sam, barely even five minutes, it didn’t feel fair to explain it. Especially as it was obvious that Sam hadn’t noticed anything odd about Castiel. How Dean saw Cas seemed private somehow, like he’d been allowed in the secret, even though it was only Dean’s thoughts, nothing concrete.

“Nothing,” Dean shook his head to rid himself of the thought, forcing a smile as he threw himself back on the couch, “Now let’s put some _Doctor Sexy MD_ on, what do you think?” he waggled his eyebrows, already knowing the answer.

The cushion that hit him smack in the head was a resounding no from Sam.


	3. Chapter 3

            Another week passed by without much of a fuss, bringing back the weekend that Dean cherished so much. This time around, nearly all of Dean’s friends seemed to be free for a change, even Victor, who was normally the worst one of the bunch for having no time to meet up because of work. Jess and Sam were naturally busy; both of them had exams early Monday morning and were both miserably studying while the rest of the gang were going to meet up and enjoy themselves. Dean remembered what it felt like to have test after test in college; he empathised with Sam and Jess, but that wasn’t going to stop him from having a damn good night.

Ten minutes to nine o’clock, Dean sauntered into the Roadhouse, leather jacket wrapped around his body in the hopes that it would warm him up and take the redness off the tip of his nose. The Roadhouse was a bar that one of his family friends, Ellen, owned. He’d known her and her daughter ever since he was a kid. He actually remembered causing chaos in the place when he was young, holding Sam’s hand as Jo encouraged them to do random naughty shit that got them in trouble.

As Dean expected, Jo was managing the bar, laughing and joking with one of the customers, a hefty guy with a scraggly beard and dirty leather coat.

“Hey Jo.” Dean waved at her as he took a stool at the bar, accidentally grabbing one of the chairs that were wobbly. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do, most of them were falling apart anyway.

When Jo saw him she grinned, saying something to the unwashed guy before finding her way over to Dean. She was the youngest of Dean’s group of friends, only finding her way with them because her mother and father had grown up with Dean’s parents, alongside Uncle Bobby. Even after Jo’s dad died when she was six, and Dean’s parents died much later, Jo, Sam, and Dean were close. In a lot of ways, Jo was like their little sister; they’d grown up together, causing mischief on the streets, doing their best to make Jo smile after her father had died, and ganging up on anyone who dared mistreat any of them. Dean was glad that even though he didn’t have any family by blood anymore, apart from Sam of course, he still had some people he could call his family. Jo, Ellen, Bobby, hell, _all_ of his friends. They could never replace his parents, but he was thankful that they were in his lives. It was doubtful he would have survived this long if he hadn’t had them.

“Early aren’t you?” Jo asked with a raised, blonde eyebrow. Her messy ponytail swished as she reached out to get a beer for Dean; he didn’t even have to tell her what he wanted, she knew him well enough to guess. “I haven’t even finished my shift yet. Mom’s not coming down until the hour. I know you planned tonight, but I didn’t realise you were _this_ eager.”

Most of the time, when the group said they were meeting for nine, people didn’t start dribbling in until half an hour later. Rare was it that someone got there on the dot. Dean had chosen to come early tonight though; he’d quickly realised that Cas wouldn’t have gotten the memo and would probably turn up with minutes to spare. Castiel didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would show up even a second late.

“Yeah, well,” Dean shrugged, “I just wanted more time with you and your delightful mother,” he said in his most charming voice, winking at Jo because he knew it would cause some kind of beautiful reaction.

Not to disappoint, Jo pretended to gag as she slid the beer to Dean’s hold, “Ugh. Don’t even joke about that kind of thing. And anyway,” she smirked, “don’t say that too loudly or that uncle of ours will get jealous.”

Ah, Bobby Singer and Ellen. They’d had a sort of thing for years that no one really asked them about. Even now, Dean couldn’t tell whether they’d ever gotten it on yet or whether they were still awkwardly circling around each other, dumbly waiting for the other to make a move. It was very much like mother, like daughter when it came to Jo and Ellen, as Jo had the exact same relationship with Victor. Stolen glances and sarcastic remarks to each other as they privately pined. Jesus, Dean was glad he wasn’t having to deal with that shit.

“Oh please,” Dean snorted, “as if Bobby is gonna get his head and his hat out of his ass long enough to actually admit that he likes your mom.” He rolled his eyes; they’d been dealing with this shit for _years._

“Interesting that you say that,” Jo said airily, wiping off the bar with a smug look on her face.

“What?!” Dean’s eyebrows shot through the roof. “Are you saying something happened?”

Jo raised an eyebrow, leaving it a moment to increase the unbearable tension. “Nah,” she grinned toothily, “I’m just playing with you.”

Dean flipped her off. “Asshole.”

“Hey, you love me really!” Jo’s shoulder shook as she realised how much she’d truly made Dean believe her. That was the problem with Jo, she had a great poker face when she wanted to; she was a terror to play card games with. Meanwhile, Sam was a breeze. All suppressed grins and giggles.

“That’s debatable,” Dean frowned, grabbing the beer bottle form Jo with a scowl.

Together they talked some more, an ease to their conversation after knowing each other for so damn long. Jo was one of the very few people that Dean felt truly comfortable with. He didn’t talk to her about _everything,_ but he didn’t do that with anyone. But, she drove him around town when he needed someone to and she was allowed to tell him to stop being a fucking idiot when he was being one. All in all, their friendship was incredibly important to Dean. If anyone threatened it or Jo herself, Dean would be alongside Jo to kick the shit out of them.

As Dean had expected, Castiel interrupted the conversation as he came through the entrance dead on nine o’clock. It seemed like it had been a good idea after all for Dean to turn up early. Just like always, Castiel was wearing the damn trench coat again, though Dean was oddly starting to grow a little fond of the thing.

“Cas, hey.” Dean waved him over, patting the stool next to him.

At Dean’s voice, Cas’ gaze found Dean’s, his face lighting up the dull interior with a gentle smiler as he walked over to Dean at the bar. First, he shook off his jacket, folding it in his arm before taking a seat, the coat taking the stool next to him.

“Hey, you find the place okay?” Dean asked. “I was worried you might get lost.”

“No, it was fine”—Castiel hugged his arms as he perhaps realised that taking his coat off was a mistake in this place—“It’s close to your apartment.”

“Yeah, told you so,” Dean smiled. It was one of the bigger reasons as to why his friends always chose to meet up there – it was a safe walking distance for Dean if everyone was going to be drinking and taking cabs home, or if Jess and Sam weren’t around like tonight. As well as that, it was one of the very few places Dean could go to with the chance of getting laid; taking someone home when he only lived a couple of minutes away had its bonuses.

“It’s a little cold,” Castiel murmured, rubbing his sweater clad forearms with his hands.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “you get used to it after a while. Ellen doesn’t bother with heating, says everyone who comes here are too drunk to feel the cold which, y’know, is pretty accurate. Just don’t let her hear you complaining or she’ll tell you to stop whining like a baby.”

Looking mildly horrified, Castiel replied, “Oh. Okay. I won’t.”

Dean grinned, flicking his beer bottle. “Could your friend from work not make it tonight?”

To try and make Castiel more comfortable with the outing, Dean had told him that he could invite his friend from work; that way, Castiel would know more than one person in the group and would feel less of a third wheel. In the past, Dean had been in Cas’ shoes, walking into a place where he only knew one of the throngs of people. It had sucked, sticking to the person like a rash as they talked to everyone with ease whilst Dean was pretty much ignored for the whole night. He wasn’t going to let Castiel have that experience, not if he could help it.

“I asked her but she’d already made other plans. She has a date. A marathon watch of _Star Trek_ ,” Castiel explained with a smile, though deep down Dean wondered whether Cas was a little sad that his right hand girl couldn’t make it tonight.

“Sounds like my kind of person.” Dean grinned some more, thinking that he definitely needed to meet this Charlie person. It was always good to find friends who were Trekkies, because then it was so much easier for them to gang up and bully his other friends who refused to watch it.

“You like _Star Trek_?” Castiel asked conversationally.

Dean snorted, because it was obvious to him that he did. Watching _Star Trek_ was a way of _life_. “Course I do.”

Castiel shrugged. “I’ve never watched it.”

Dean froze, beer bottle hanging just below his chin. “Not even when you were a kid?” Dean asked, voice rising as he felt more and more scandalised by the news.

And there it was again. The same wounded, but guarded expression that Cas had made when Dean had asked him about going to college. Dean had no clue what he kept doing wrong, but he really wished he knew so he could stop repeating it.

“No,” Castiel replied after a while, gaze turning to look around the bar that was moderately full. It was the usual kind of crowd, burly men and women who were too drunk, loud, and most definitely rough around the edges. They were Dean’s kind of people though; there was no bullshit and no one pried into each other’s business. Everyone in the room had their secrets and it stuck that way. The bar was one of the few places that Dean felt inherently safe, the drunken crowds oddly making him feel like he belonged.

“Fuck, we’ll have to change that,” Dean decided aloud at Cas’ announcement. “We can have a movie night. I’ll show you all the good movies, don’t worry.” He play punched Cas’ shoulder, excited to educate someone about all the best movies out there. That sounded like a good night if there was ever one.

Before Cas could reply with a yes or no, Jo was back from serving someone else, a genuine smile playing on her lips as she looked Cas up and down.

“Hey.”

“Jo, this is Cas. Cas, this is Jo,” Dean said, waving a hand between the two of them.

Jo extended a hand, smiling when Cas took it. “Hey Cas, nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Castiel replied, shaking Jo’s hand once more before disentangling them.

“Anyway, once you’ve got Cas a drink, we’ll head off and grab a booth before anyone else comes in and steals it.” Dean nodded at the booth in the far corner, the booth that they normally tried to get each time they met up in this place. There tended to be enough room for them all to slot in without actually having to sit on each other.

“No,” Jo firmly told him, voice close to a childish whine, “stay with me until my mom gets here. She owns the bar, she can tell anyone to fucking move if we need her to,” she pouted playfully.

Pulling a face, Dean muttered, “Have you seen ome of the people who come here for a drink? They’ll punch you in the throat.” He shook his head, taking another sip of beer, noting with a frown that it was empty. “Or worse.”

Jo looked at him like he was very much an idiot. “Remember, this is my mom we’re talking about.”

“Right,” Dean realised with a chuckle. “You’re right. I wouldn’t bet on anyone against your mother.”

“Exactly.” Jo smiled smugly, reading Dean’s mind and grabbing a new bottle for him.

As Dean grabbed some bills out of his jacket pocket, he noticed that Castiel was staring at him questioningly, eyes wide.

“But Ellen is really nice,” Dean added, backtracking as he realised that he was more than likely terrifying Castiel. The poor guy was probably wondering who the fuck he’d befriended and which was the quickest exit out of this place.

Truth be told, Ellen could be more than a little intimidating when people first met her. She didn’t deal with bullshit and would tear you a new one if you were trying anything like that with her. Not to mention she was fiercely protective of the people she had put under her wing; Dean wouldn’t even bat an eyelid if she brought out a gun and started waving it around if someone turned up and tried to lay a hand on any of the people she loved. It was one of the things that Dean admired about her the most. Not the fact that she could wield a gun or throw a mean punch, but that she would defend the people she loved right until the very bitter end. The trait had been passed onto Jo, though sometimes Ellen didn’t like that; she’d much prefer Jo to not be putting her mouth and fists where they shouldn’t technically be. But trying to tell Jo what to do was an impossible feat.

“Anyway,” Jo laughed when she detected the slight bewilderment in Castiel’s gaze. “You want a drink, Cas?”

“Just an orange juice, please.” Castiel smiled, rummaging in his wallet to get the bit of change that was needed.

“Driving?” Dean guessed, taking a sip from his new bottle. It was so fresh it was slippery to hold, the wetness of the condensation making his hand slide. The troubles of holding it was worth it when the frothy liquid poured down his throat, cooling his insides.

“Yes,” Castiel nodded, “but I don’t drink. Alcohol that is,” he explained.

“Don’t like the taste of that either?” Dean teased; he still found it kind of hilarious how Cas hated coffee but adored a tea filled with sugar. Maybe if there was a sugary beer out there, Castiel would love it.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, the corners of his lips turning up as he realised that Dean was making a joke, “and I just don’t like the idea of it,” he added, voice turning more serious as he accepted the orange juice from Jo, his fingertips smearing the condensation. “Losing your inhibitions. Waking up the next day not remembering some parts of the night...” He trailed off, half shrugging as he stared at the drink in his grip.

“Fair enough,” Dean shrugged. “Not for everyone I guess,” he said aloud, though privately he felt that there might be something more hidden in Castiel’s words. But Dean didn’t want to push. It was starting to become apparent that the more Dean found out about Castiel and the more the guy opened up, the more questions Dean seemed to have.

“What isn’t for everyone?” Jo asked as she caught the end of the conversation, not even bothering to curb her curiosity.

“Stop being a nosy fucker.” Dean grinned at her fondly, nodding behind her when Ellen came into view, “or I’ll tell your mom,” he widened his grin, pleased that he could get such a death glare from Jo. He’d had years of practice to learn what buttons to push.

“Tell me what?” Ellen’s voice boomed, arms crossing as she eyed Jo suspiciously.

“Nothing. Just that Dean is an annoying customer who really needs to learn some manners.” Jo smiled as falsely as possible, which only made Dean snort into his beer bottle.

“Whatever, kids.” Ellen ignored their idiocy, used to it by now. “Just go to your booth and try and keep the noise down.”

“See you, Ellen,” Dean waved, jumping off the stool. When Ellen was out of earshot, he mumbled to Cas, “Told you, she’s nice really.”

Jo’s hysterical laughing nearly made Castiel drop his glass on the floor.

 

* * *

 

It took another forty minutes for everyone else to arrive, trickling in one by one as they all shoved themselves into the booth. Everyone was loud and obnoxious as they grabbed their drinks and sat down, but they were all genuinely nice and welcoming to Castiel. That was one of things Dean loved about his friends; they might be loud and idiotic, but they were good people. They didn’t ignore Cas _or_ hound him with questions, they just quickly accepted that Dean had brought a new friend that they were all going to become friends with along the way too.

Though there weren’t an array of questions being thrown at Castiel, there were some over the night, partially to be polite, partially to be curious about Dean’s new friend.

“So,” Jo smiled over at Cas, who was squashed next to Dean, “Dean said you’re new to the neighbourhood.”

Castiel blinked for a moment, seemingly surprised that everyone’s eyes were suddenly on him, besides Ash who was too busy guzzling a drink. “Yes. I’ve been here five or six weeks now.”

“How come you moved here?” Tracey asked, one of Jo’s friends more so than everyone’s; the question on paper sounded demanding, but with Tracey’s small smile and kind eyes, it didn’t quite sound so harsh.

“I’ve travelled a lot over the past few years,” Castiel explained with a noncommittal shrug, averting his gaze to his new glass of water. “I never found a town I wanted to stay in. I came here on a whim and“—he slid his finger down the glass to catch a dribble of condensation—“I like it here.”

“So you’re sticking around, huh?” Dean asked around the rim of his bottle, finding himself smiling at the news. He’d only just met Cas really, but he was glad that the guy wanted to stay. There was something inviting about him, making Dean want him to hang around more so he could learn more about the stuff that he did a good job of hiding. Maybe Dean liked him so much because he saw something of himself in him.

“It looks that way.” Castiel looked up to smile at Dean and Dean only. “This town is nice. And welcoming.”

“God,” Jo snorted, “you haven’t been here long enough if you still think this place is nice.”

“Hey,” Victor retorted, playfully slapping Jo’s shoulder, “My job is to make this town nice, don’t insult me.”

Jo shoved him back with a grin. “Nah,” she smiled over at Castiel, “this place is nice really. It’s just big enough to not know everyone in the damn place, but it’s small enough to know at least fifty percent of everyone’s business.”

Dean murmured an agreement; that was one of the few things he hated about the town. There were far too many people that knew his past and liked to bring it up even six years later. No one did it to be rude, Dean was sure of it, but when the fifty billionth old biddy came up to him to say the crash was such a terrible thing, Dean felt like screaming. He wished there was a magic wand he could wave to make everyone forget. Or at least get them to shut up about it.

“You got a job around here yet?” Victor asked.

“Yes,” Castiel nodded. “I work at The Blooming Place.”

“The florists?” Dean asked.

“Yes.” Castiel smiled in recognition. “I work in the shop, but I’m also the gardener there. There’s quite a few gardens in town that I clean up.” He tipped his head to the side, clearly proud of his job.

“That’s why you had dirt on your hands when I first met you,” Dean realised aloud, nodding his head to Cas’ hands, his gaze dropping to the soil ingrained into the man’s skin. So not a guy digging up graves with his bare hands then.

“Ah,” Castiel looked down at his hands, opening up his palms, “yes. It’s difficult to scrub it away when your hands are in soil every day.” He turned his gaze up to the rest of the group as he explained, “Because it’s the winter, there’s less gardening for me to do and I’m more so working in the shop. As soon as it’s spring, I’ll have a lot more work to do.”

There were murmurs of ‘interesting’ and ‘huh’ as they all nodded to what Castiel was saying. Dean realised that they weren’t doing it to be polite, they were all genuinely interested in what Castiel had to say. Apparently the way Castiel hooked you into his words was a universal thing, not just how Dean reacted. There was just something about the way Castiel spoke, quiet and reserved, gaze elsewhere, as his deep voice lulled you into comfort.

And then the moment was gone as the conversation suddenly jolted into the time when Sam had bought flowers for Jess, too early in their relationship for Sam to have known that Jess was allergic. Giving your new girlfriend hives wasn’t exactly the best start. However, Sam had earned brownie points by bringing her back to good health.

As it always was when Dean met up with his friends, the night carried on quickly. Before Dean knew it, it was time to go home and for everyone to sleep it off. No one was drunk per say, except for Ash who particularly buzzed, hanging off Dean’s arm as Dean hauled them out of the bar.

“He can sleep on the couch if you don’t want to bother dragging him to his apartment,” Jo said, crossing her arms as she frowned at Ash. In that position, with that facial expression, she was the double of her mother.

“He has to go to his own place at least once a week, the lazy ass.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Good luck then,” Jo laughed, looking pleased that it was Dean’s task rather than hers, “I haven’t seen him this far gone in a while though.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean complained. “But he did tell us he was going all out tonight. He hasn’t drank this much in ages.”

“Yep,” Jo agreed, “and he stuck to his stupid promise.” She ruffled Ash’ hair in an attempt to annoy him, wrinkling her nose as her hand touched his damp, sweaty hair, “Yeah, good luck with him.” She grinned cheekily at Dean before hurriedly going back to the entrance of the bar, crossing her arms as she watched everyone leave. Even though she was the youngest of them all, there was a certain mama bear protectiveness from her, like she was making sure they all got home safe. It was definitely a trait she had learnt from her mother, though they both would have smacked him if they heard him say they similar in any aspect.

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was suddenly close by, much like his hand that was now placed on Dean’s shoulder, “Do you want a ride home?”

And there it was. The question that Dean had been hoping to avoid. Why did a good night have to finish off with that damn question? Why the fuck did everything always have to be ruined?

“No,” Dean smiled as calmly as he could, though his heart was hammering in his chest, “That’s okay. Thanks though. Besides, I have a drunken Ash to walk home”—he nodded his head at Ash fondly, who was giggling to himself—“and a slightly tipsy cop walking with me to make sure we don’t get stabbed.” He pointed at Victor, who was looking at Ash like he was the bane of his existence, a sigh settling on his lips.

A small frown formed on Castiel’s mouth, pulling down his face. “I can give you all a ride. It’s no bother,” he offered.

“No,” Dean snapped, instantly wincing, especially when he saw the hurt look on Cas’ face. “Honestly.” Dean smiled, reaching over to squeeze Cas’ forearm to try and further the point that he didn’t actually _hate_ the poor guy. “I think it’s probably best that Ash walk some of it off. And I like walking in the dark,” Dean lied through his teeth, “It’s fine. You should head off home anyway and stop offering to be everyone’s cab driver.” Dean nudged him. “Say hi to that cat of yours.”

Castiel watched him for a moment, eyes lingering a little too long, enough to make Dean shuffle on his feet uncomfortably because it felt like Cas was onto him. There was just something about the guy that made Dean feel like he could see right through him, through all the lies and blundering that everyone else seemed to just agree with. Maybe it was just the piercing eyes. Or perhaps Castiel really could see through the bullshit.

Just as Dean thought Castiel was going to call him out, he relented, “Okay,” Castiel agreed, in a way that Dean couldn’t tell whether Cas knew that Dean was bullshitting or not “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he offered as a question.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, smile turning more natural. “We’ll see you at lunch. We can show you how good Ellen’s food is.”

“Bye, Dean,” Castiel murmured, looking around to the rest of Dean’s loud friends before probably deciding not to bother interrupting them all to say goodbye. Dean got it; sometimes with his friends, it was easier just to get up and go rather than wait for a rare moment of silence to speak up.

Castiel’s gaze found Dean’s once more, just for a breath, before he was heading off to his car, keys jangling in his hand. Dean watched him go, feeling weird that he’d lied to him. He hated doing it to anyone, but knowing he’d looked into Cas’ eyes and gave him a corker of a lie made Dean feel uncomfortable. He hoped when the inevitable happened and Castiel found out the truth, he’d understand why Dean had kept it hidden away.

“Hey Dean, we going or what?” Victor shoved him out of his thoughts. Jo was watching them as well, Dean realised, but that was more than probably because she was looking at Ash, not Dean staring at Castiel. Most likely, she was waiting for Ash to do something embarrassing in his drunken stupor so she could record it and use it as blackmail for a few weeks. They had that kind of friendship, a constant wish to get one over the other.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, watching Cas get into his beat up looking car before finally turning to Victor to say, “let’s get the hell out of here. And...“ he grabbed Ash’s arm and pulled him in as he joked, “let’s hope you don’t puke on the way.”

He wrapped his arm around Ash’s shoulder, propping him up as he laughed with Victor, winking at Jo as a way to say goodbye. Simply rolling her eyes back, Jo rushed back into the slight warmth of the bar.

“’I’m not gonna puke,” Ash groaned.

“You better not ‘cause then Victor’ll have to arrest you,” Dean poked fun at his friend. It was easy to do, not that Ash seemed to be bothered by the comment.

“He can puke if he wants to. I’m off duty so I’m not going to do anything about it,” Victor laughed good-naturedly, hooking his shoulder around the other side of Ash so they were both holding him up as they started to walk.

“Just cause you’ve got a day off doesn’t mean you can let Ash make an ass of himself in the town that you’re supposed to be policing,” Dean snorted, half waving to Tracey who was climbing into a cab because she lived much further away. Not to mention that even if she did live closer, she’d still be catching a cab as it was winter and bitingly cold. They had more sense than Victor, who was choosing to stick with Dean so Dean wouldn’t have to struggle alone with Ash.

Victor made a derisive noise and that was all he had to offer on that conversation.

“So.” Victor made small talk as they took the short route to Ash’s apartment. “Cas seems like a nice guy.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, smiling to himself as he realised that literally everyone who had met Cas so far had said the exact same thing, “He is.”

“I don’t normally trust cat people, but—“ Victor started to say.

“Oh please, just cause you met _one_ criminal who happened to have three cats,” Dean chuckled, “And when you went to arrest him, one of the cats attacked you—“

“The cat went for my throat!” Victor argued, grumbling like an old man, “It could have killed me.”

“Sure it could have.” Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ll make sure to tell Cas that he should be careful that his tiny ginger cat isn’t going to kill him one day.”

“Fuck you,” Victor retorted whilst Ash started giggling between them for no particular good reason.

Yep, tonight had been a good night.


	4. Chapter 4

The last time Dean had set foot in The Blooming Place had been six years ago; it wasn’t exactly a memory he wanted to cherish. Or think about at all. At least it had been renovated since then, cheery colours with a different name and what Dean assumed was a new manager. It made the building look different enough for him not to want to rush back out and down three bottles of beer.

As expected, the inside of the building was piled with flowers upon flowers, as well as some random different garden ornaments that Dean had a feeling Cas would probably buy, especially if he had to see them in the store every day. The last time Dean had met up with him, he’d mentioned how he was getting his back yard ready for spring and summer, his speech getting faster and faster as he got more and more excited about it. Now that the guy was officially staying in town, he’d already started making changes, both to the inside of his house by buying some more furniture here and there, and to the exterior, his favourite thing to decorate. There were now winter flowers in the small flower pots attached to the handrail up the stairs to Castiel’s house, the spring flowers not quite ready to grow yet. But the sight of the small flower pots randomly covering sections of the stairs made Dean smile every time he saw them.

The smell of the store was overpowering; it was a good smell of course, but one that was close to burning Dean’s nose and throat. There was just something about an outpouring of flowery smells that could turn sickly, turning Dean’s stomach. Not exactly what he wanted right now when he was ready to have a possibly serious conversation. He was hoping it wasn’t going to get to that though.

His plans for his whole lunch were momentarily scrapped when he realised Cas wasn’t at the counter like he’d been expecting. Instead was a girl in her early twenties, red hair as bright as the youth in her eyes, pale white skin with light freckles over her nose. Because Dean had never come to Cas’ place of work, them always meeting at the garage for lunch, he didn’t know whether she was either the boss or the other worker who liked _Star Trek_. Either way, she wasn’t Cas.

For a startling moment, Dean had the worrying idea that Cas had upped and left with Aniel and drove to a new town without saying goodbye. The guy had pretty much said he was a roamer; maybe he was used to randomly leaving without saying goodbye to the friends he’d made. It didn’t sound like Cas; he’d always seemed like he wouldn’t do anything to even hurt a fly, but perhaps leaving without saying goodbye made things easier for him. Shit, what if Cas had really left town and that’s why Dean hadn’t heard from him in days?

“Hey?” Dean phrased it as a question, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as his eyes watered at the strong smell. “Is Cas here?” He bit the inside of his cheek, preparing for the worst.

Instantly, the girl looked suspicious, like Dean was about to magically get a machete out of his back pocket and cut Cas into pieces. “You are?” She asked, ruffling her bangs so that they fell perfectly into place.

“Dean,” he replied, wondering whether that would mean anything to her.

The woman’s face instantly changed in recognition, signalling that Castiel had told her about him. “Oh right,” her face stretched into a knowing grin, one that Dean wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to like or not, “he’s in the back.” She twisted her head, red hair swishing as she shouted so loudly that Dean winced. “Cas, you have a visitor!”

There was a sound of shuffling as Castiel appeared in the doorway to the back of the shop. “Who is it?” he asked curiously.

“Dean,” Charlie announced.

Before Dean could even catch a glimpse of Cas’ face, the guy was ducking his head down and turning away as soon as he realised it was Dean. He shifted his body to face the counter that was facing away from Dean too. Okay, what the _hell_ was going on?

“Cas, hey,” Dean said awkwardly, really not understanding what was happening in front of his very eyes. It was made all the worse that the other worker was watching them unabashedly, gaze going back and forth between the two of them.

“Dean, what are you doing here?” Castiel asked, voice stilted in a way Dean had never heard it before. From the angle that Castiel was standing, Dean could barely see his profile and how his jaw was clenched, shoulders held uncomfortably tense.

“Well,” Dean scratched the back of his neck, taking a step towards the counter which caused him to get another mouthful of flowery scents, “not to sound like a jilted ex or anything, but we were meant to have lunch together the past few days and you’ve bailed on me.” He kept his gaze on Castiel, thankful that the other worker was now pretending to busy herself with organising a flower arrangement on the counter. Clearly, she’d realised that the conversation was the awkward ‘I want to hide and die’ kind, not an entertaining chat.

“I just wanted to know what I’ve done wrong, how I’ve pissed you off so much that you don’t want to be found.” Dean tried, oh how he fucking tried, to keep the hurt from his voice, but the way Cas reacted so alarmed, Dean knew he’d failed miserably. But what the hell did Cas expect? If you became friends with someone and then they suddenly cut you off with excuses upon excuses, and even those texts started to fizzle out, how the hell were you supposed to feel? Everything had been going swimmingly well, they’d been meeting for lunch so many times a week, he’d even visited Dean’s apartment again. And then, all of a sudden, nothing.

As soon as Dean had finished speaking, Cas was twirling around dramatically, eyes wide in horror. “You haven’t done anything,” he quickly said, voice a jumble.

When Dean caught Cas’ worried face, he sucked in a breath, stuck for words for a second. It wasn’t the panic on Cas’ features that had him feeling like he might punch something, it was the angry bruise harbouring under Cas’ right eye, yellow blooming from the bright purple mark on his cheekbone. And that was definitely _not_ there the last time Dean had saw Cas. Suddenly, Dean had an idea as to why Cas had been ignoring him. It didn’t quite make sense as to why a black eye would cause Cas to back off, but Dean knew that it had something to do with it, however baffling.

“Shit,” Dean stumbled forward, bashing his knee against the counter, “what the hell happened?” he demanded harshly, anger already boiling in his veins.

“Cas,” the other worker offered, sympathy in her gaze, “how about you take your lunch now?”

Too busy blinking at Dean, it took Cas a moment to realise that the other worker had spoken. “I –“ his gaze slowly slid to the other person in the room, his speech slow as he thought, “okay Charlie,” he agreed, still looking slightly bewildered at Dean’s surprise visit.

“Take the back room,” Charlie said, turning to Dean to give him a sweet smile. “You can come around, Dean.”

“Right, thanks.” Dean thanked her before making his way around the counter to follow Cas into the back room. The stock room was positively packed with plants, more types than Dean could count, let alone know the names to. Dean had never been much of a flower person, not enough to have ever bought for them anyone. They were pleasing to look at, sure, but Dean had only ever had one occasion to buy them. And that wasn’t exactly a great memory.

Thankfully, Castiel continued to walk through another door to a simple box shaped room, which had a small couch and coffee table squeezed in a corner, with a row of counters that held a sink, coffee machine, and a mini fridge. If it were any other situation, Dean would have been laughing at the fact that there were two giant boxes of teabags next to the kettle; the guy sure loved his damn tea. But it wasn’t any other situation. He was standing there next to Castiel who had been punched by someone who needed to meet Dean’s fists.

“What happened?” Dean said as soon as they were alone, Cas even going as far as to shutting the door behind him. “I’m guessing you didn’t walk into a door, else you wouldn’t have been avoiding me.” Dean narrowed his eyes; while he still didn’t fully understand why Cas had felt the need to avoid him because he’d been socked in the eye, at least it meant that there was another explanation other than the fact Cas hated him.

Sighing, Castiel sat down on the couch, looking ever so _tired._ “It happened at work.”

“At work?” Dean asked disbelievingly. Who hit someone at a fucking _florists_?

“Who was it? Who the hell do I need to go beat the shit out of?” Dean demanded, too angry to sit down next to Cas. He needed to pace, to give himself something to do other than punching the wall. Just looking at the bruise on Cas’ face was getting Dean angrier and angrier, a nasty thing curling in his stomach that made him want to go find whoever caused it and punch them twice as hard as they’d punched Cas. And then some. The same feeling that made him weirdly want to wrap his arms around Cas and protect him till his dying day.

The outburst from Dean seemed to confuse Castiel, two tiny lines forming between his eyebrows as he looked up at Dean’s pacing body. “It –“ Castiel paused, watching Dean like a very confused hawk, “there’s an old lady who I work for. I do her front and back yard. She’s very old and too frail to do her gardening by herself anymore but she wants to make sure that they’re still filled with flowers.” He folded his hands together in his lap as he chose his words carefully. “I don’t think she manages to get out much so her back yard is like a salvation to her, somewhere she can sit, enjoy the peace and forget all her troubles.”

Puzzled, Dean replied slowly, “I’m assuming this frail old lady wasn’t the one who was doing the punching?” he asked, though he supposed that could be a reason as to why Cas would have wanted to hide it, though Castiel didn’t act like the kind of guy who would be embarrassed about that sort of thing. Sure, maybe Victor would try and hide it if he got a black eye from some old lady at work, only so none of them would make fun of him for it, but Cas never seemed to care about what other’s thought of him or if he was going against the ‘macho’ image. For fucks sake, the guy worked at a _florists._

A small smile lifted Cas’ features, only for a second, before it was drooping again. “No. I – The last time I went, her son was there. He’s never been there before, not when I’ve been, but he must have found out that his mother was having a gardener so he wanted to check them out. He was nice at first, just asking a few questions to make sure I wasn’t going to try and steal from his mother.” Castiel paused, sighing.

“But?” Dean prompted.

“But we were just talking and –“ Castiel paused again, blue eyes wary for reasons Dean wasn’t quite sure of, “he realised I was gay.” He finished his speech quietly, gaze falling to his hands again. “It just came out in the conversation and he –“ another pause, chapped lips pressed together, “he didn’t like it.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to deal with first, that Cas had just came out to him or that he’d been punched because of it. Dean wasn’t dumb; gay people existed, so did lesbians, so did bisexuals and all the other sorts of people out there that Dean didn’t know of. He would have deserved ‘The Most Naïve Person on Earth Award’ if he thought any different. He’d just never - not to his knowledge at least - had a friend who was anything but straight. Maybe it was because he lived in a kind of small town. Sure, during college, he saw all sorts of things, but none involving any of his direct friends. It didn’t bother him that Cas was gay of course; honestly, Dean was starting to feel like an idiot that he’d made the initial assumption that Cas must have been straight because all of Dean’s friends were.

And then Dean’s mind was going back to the notion that when some asshole had learnt about Cas’ sexuality, their first reaction had been to use their fists. Just because Cas liked to kiss guys instead of girls. How fucked up was that?

“So he punched you,” Dean said, voice flat.

“Yes,” Castiel replied quietly, still keeping his gaze far away from Dean’s face, “and subsequently told me that I was not allowed to go back there.”

Gritting his teeth, Dean’s hand curled into fists as he muttered under his breath. “That fucking asshole.” He looked over at Cas’ bewildered expression. “What’s his name?”

Dean didn’t know everyone in town; it was small, but not _that_ small. But if the guy had a name, he could easily find someone who did. It wouldn’t even take a day. Not even a day before he could punch the homophobic asshole in the face who had hurt his _friend._

By the look on Castiel’s face, he knew what Dean was planning. “Dean,” he sighed, voice quiet and so fucking s _ad,_ “if I wanted to fight back, I would have done so. But I didn’t want to. And I didn’t want to lose my job either.” His eyes were wide and pleading. “Leave it. It’s been sorted, someone else will cater to her garden.”

“Wait,” Dean raised his hand to halt Castiel, momentarily forgetting his plans to find the guy at the new titbit of information, “she’s still going to get this places custom?”

Castiel pulled a face like Dean was the one being difficult. “She’s an eighty five year old woman, it’s not her fault that her son is homophobic.”

“Er,” Dean pulled a face back with a cross of his arms, “pretty sure it is. He’s gotta have learnt it from somewhere.”

Dean prided himself on being someone that his parents would be proud of; a good image of his mother and father that showed that their parenting skills had worked. That this random guy would resort to punching someone because they were gay told a lot about him _and_ his mother. At least to Dean it did.

“You can’t blame everything on people’s parents, Dean.” Castiel shook his head, going completely against what Dean believed. “He has to take responsibility and she shouldn’t be put to blame. Everything is sorted now. Someone else is going to work on the gardens and I will continue to work elsewhere,” he finalised.

By the look on Castiel’s face, he was begging for the conversation to be dropped. He wasn’t exactly telling Dean to shut up, but Dean could tell that was what he wanted. And the guy was right, wasn’t he? It wasn’t Dean’s job to go beat the asshole up (though he wished it was, god he _wished_ it was) and if Cas said it was over and done with, then Dean needed to drop it. Cas was an adult, he could make his own decision when it came to shit like this without Dean barging in with his fists waving around menacingly.

At the tired expression Cas’ face, Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to calm down. “Right, sorry,” he deflated, dropping onto the couch next to Cas as he admitted with an apologetic smile, “you’re right. Sorry. I just- I can get a little mother hen sometimes I guess, especially with my friends and family. I can’t really help it.” He shrugged; it was one of his best and worst traits. He would go to the ends of the earth for his loved ones, but that sometimes meant he put his own needs aside to do it. He didn’t mind, even though he’d had countless arguments with Sam about how he should stop doing that sort of shit, Dean couldn’t help it most of the time. It was ingrained into him.

Castiel’s face softened at Dean’s apology. “It’s fine.” He smiled to let Dean know that he wasn’t angry at him for the outburst. “I’m just –“ he licked his lips, looking away so Dean couldn’t see the bruise anymore, “I’m not used to anyone be so willing to fight for me,” he admitted, “that’s all.”

God, every time Cas made any notion of being terribly alone, it just made Dean all the more protective. It was weird to even think that Cas had spent all this time without many friends, without people who backed him up and supported him when shit like this went down. Sure, Cas was a bit of a drifter, but surely he would have met some people along the way who’d want to keep in contact? Who would fight for him if necessary?

“Well,” Dean nudged Cas’ shoulder with his own, “you’ve got a bunch of those kinda friends now.”

Dean dreaded to think what some of the other guys were going to say when they heard about Cas’ scuffle. Victor would want to do his whole cop act, Sam would be all puppy dog eyes as he tried to comfort Cas, and Jo, much like Dean, would end up cursing and want to go punch the fucker.

Almost as if reading Dean’s mind, Castiel asked. “Can we not tell them? I don’t want to cause a fuss.” He brushed it aside, even motioning his hand as if he were dusting it off his lap.

Understanding Cas’ frame of thought as Dean too never liked to be the centre of controversy, Dean nodded in agreement. “Sure. Just say you walked into a door. Better yet, I can tell them that you tripped over Anna and fell into the edge of the door and I’ll say that you’re embarrassed about it, that way they won’t keep talking about it with you.” He offered, thinking that that would work. While his friends were the ultimate teasers, if Dean told them not to do it with Cas, they’d listen and keep their mouths shut.

With a place of his hand on Dean’s wrist for a moment, Castiel murmured softly, “thank you, Dean.”

Whether it was because of the hand on his arm or the fact that the conversation had quickly overstepped his soppy limit for the day, Dean switched the topic and stood up quickly. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m fucking starving.” He rubbed his hands together, feeling his stomach grumble at the mention of food. “Shall we go get something to eat?”

Realising that the conversation was finally over, Cas’ shoulders drooped in relief. “Okay. But do you have enough time to? Your lunch is quite short and you’ve already spent time coming here and listening to me…” Cas trailed off, his relief quickly disappearing into a frown, probably thinking he’d wasted Dean’s lunch hour or something. Trust Cas to feel like he’d been something of a burden or some shit.

“Nah, it was a quiet morning. Bobby let me go early seeing as there was no work to do and it’s a Friday. I’ve got all the time in the world to eat.” Dean grinned. It was why he’d managed to come over to Cas’ work in the first place. It was a little while away from the garage, far enough to make it so it would take him his entire lunch hour to trek there and back to work. If he hadn’t had the afternoon off, Dean would have been desperate enough to turn up at Cas’ door after work, very much like a worried stalker.

“Okay.” Castiel smiled, back to being relieved. The poor guy didn’t seem like he knew how to feel.

“Let’s go then,” Dean said, nodding his head to the door. “The diner across the street, is it okay? I don’t think I’ve ever been there.”

“It’s very good,” Castiel replied as he stood up. “The owner –“ he scrunched up his nose as he tried to place the name, “Benny, I think, he’s a very good cook.”

“He do all the greasy stuff?” Dean cocked an eyebrow, desperate for a good burger.

Castiel flashed Dean a gummy smile as he led them out the back room, coat in his hand. “Yes, he does.”

“That’s all I needed to now.” Dean grinned.

“You two heading out?” Charlie asked when they came into view, her hands busy with a new bouquet of flowers. It was filled with beautiful blues and greens that caught Dean’s eye.

“Just across the road,” Castiel explained as he threw on his coat to cover another one of his dorky sweaters (that had been another thing that Dean had quickly learnt about the guy - he loved sweaters, especially the ones with cheesy slogans or ugly patterns. Any sweater that deserved to be in the trash, Castiel was most likely going to have it in his wardrobe).

“Oh. Charlie, this is Dean,” Castiel’s eyes widened when he realised he hadn’t introduced them, “Charlie was the one who was busy that time when I met up with you and your friends.”

Okay, so the worker, not the boss then.

“Right,” Dean realised, “so you’re Charlie.”

Teasingly, Charlie crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow towards Cas. “Have you been talking about me, Cas?”

Not understanding that Charlie was trying to make a joke, Castiel merely replied, completely straight faced, “yes.”

Dean snorted while Charlie continued to tease, a wide playful grin on her face. “He talks a lot about you too, Dean.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I think we’re his favourite people but hey, what’s not to love about us, right?” She gestured to herself, winking at Dean.

“Exactly,” Dean agreed with a chuckle, quickly deciding that he liked her; he wasn’t much of a fan of chirpy people who looked like they were made of rainbows. It just made him shity that he wasn’t like that himself. But then he was also always waiting for the inevitable of the person made of sunshine to come back to earth with a bang when something shit happened. But there was something about Charlie’s happiness that was infectious, rather than irritating.

“He said that you liked _Star Trek_ , right?” Dean asked, getting to the important stuff. “And that you were having a marathon of it for a date?”

Her eyes lit up and she was suddenly right into fangirl mode. “Yeah,” she nodded excitedly, “it was awesome. My date didn’t have a clue about it so I told her she definitely needed to be educated. I mean, it’s a big part of my life, she’s got to at least know who the characters are.” She babbled, which Dean nodded to in agreement. Seriously, if he ever went into the dating field again, rather than one night stands, he sure as hell would need the girl to at least _tolerate_ watching _Star Trek._

“Did she like it in the end?” he asked, hoping that she did.

“Yep. And I don’t even think she was pretending,” Charlie bragged, “she just wanted to watch more and more.” She grinned toothily.

“And she came by today with a gift, which is even more telling as she doesn’t live in this town,” Castiel added, a knowingly pleased smile lighting up his features, though the bruise tarnished it more than a little for Dean.

“Yeah,” Charlie pretended to flip her hair, “so, score for me.”

Dean leant his elbows onto the counter. “I was telling Cas that we need to have a movie night so he can learn about _Star Trek_ and some other important pop culture shit,” Dean mentioned, happy for her to join in. Having an extra nerd in the room would help force - ahem, _influence -_ Cas into becoming a _Star Trek_ fan.

As Dean expected, Charlie was excited about the idea, practically hopping from one foot to the other. “Ah, count me in! You have all the DVD’s right?”

“Obviously,” Dean snorted, promising, “we’ll sort out a date.”

“Awesome.” Charlie grinned. “Anyway, you guys should totally go eat before you waste all of Cas’ break talking about _Star Trek._ I think us two would enjoy it but I don’t think Cas would appreciate it,” she teased Castiel.

“Okay, see you.” Dean smiled at her once more before turning his attention to Cas, who was smiling at the two of them. “Come on Cas,” he swung an arm around Cas’ shoulder, “let’s go eat before I get grumpy.”

 

* * *

 

Dean didn’t really know who he was expecting behind the door, most likely Sam seeing as they’d turned up unannounced and barged through the code at the floor of the apartment block. Whoever it was that Dean had been expecting, Cas wasn’t it.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel said, a cautious edge to his voice, like he was perhaps expecting Dean to tell him to get lost. Or ask what the hell he was doing on his doorstep.

“Um, hey,” Dean said, feeling a little confused. They’re parted earlier with the promise that they’d see each other for lunch next week on Monday; Dean definitely hadn’t expected Cas to turn up at his door. Not that he really minded. One thing he did mind, however, was the bruise that was still marking Cas’ cheekbone.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel looked awkward, “I should have perhaps called instead of turning up unannounced.

“No,” Dean shook his head, shutting that down right away; Dean didn’t pride himself on much, but always being there for his friends was one of them, “it’s okay. Come in.” He took a step back to let Cas into his apartment, shutting the door behind them as he curiously asked. “How’d you get through the front?”

“Someone was walking out as I was walking in. They let me through,” he explained, shucking off his coat as he spoke.

“Right. Good that you’re not some serial killer, I guess,” Dean joked. As watched Cas take the damn trench coat off, he couldn’t help but ask. “Don’t you get cold in that coat?”

Somewhat defensively, like he expected Dean to make fun of him or something, which perhaps might have happened in the past, Castiel said, “I layer. And my sweaters are quite thick.” He lifted his chin, tugging on his sweater as if to prove his point.

Not bothering to fight the urge to grin and huff, Dean replied. “Right.” He reached over to grab Cas’ coat, apparently distracted enough as he judged wrong and ended up dropping Cas’ coat onto the floor. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, crouching down to grab the coat with a small smile.

Watching Cas smile meant it took Dean a moment to realise that there was something else that had dropped due to his random bout of clumsiness, a small rectangular piece of card on the wooden floor.

“Hey,” he reached down and grabbed it with a frown, “something fell out of the pocket.”

Normally, Dean wasn’t a nosey person. He liked his business kept to himself so he never pried when it came to other people. Honestly, he’d fully intended to grab the card and give it back to Cas without snooping, but that thought dissolved when he realised that the note had his name on.

On one side of the card had The Blooming Place’s logo print, the other, a small handwritten note.

_“Thank you, Dean, for being a good friend.”_

“Were –“ Dean licked his lips, cocking an eyebrow to Cas, “were you going to bring me flowers?”

Clearly embarrassed, Cas started to blush, pinks fusing to the bruise on his cheek. “Yes,” he hurriedly said, “to say thank you.” His voice quietened, almost dejected. “But then I told my boss and she laughed at me and said it was a bad idea.”

The thought of Cas meaning well and wanting to give Dean flowers to thank him for today, only for the guy to be laughed at by his boss annoyed Dean more than he could explain. Sure, not every guy out there gave their guy friends flowers to say thank you. Most people just gave the other a beer. But Cas wasn’t exactly the normal type. And that was actually kind of a good thing.

“Well,” Dean crossed his arms, keeping hold of the little card as he instantly took a dislike to Cas’ boss, “she sounds mean.”

“No, she meant well.” Castiel half shrugged, folding his coat and carefully placing it to the side. “She didn’t want me to embarrass myself,” he looked Dean dead in the eye, like he was trying to find something in Dean’s expression, “or make you feel uncomfortable.”

Gaze returning to the little card held carefully between his fingers, Dean mumbled, “I’ve never been given flowers before.”

“No?” Castiel asked, sounding surprised.

“Nope.” Dean stopped his one way staring match at the card, clearing his throat so he could ask. “What flowers were you gonna bring?” He couldn’t help but wonder.

A pink hue settled on Cas’ cheeks again as he murmured. “Daises, Blue Hyacinth, and Forget Me Nots. It was a bouquet I made myself.” He shrugged modestly.

Dean knew that if he asked, Cas would patiently explain what all those flowers meant and why he’d chosen them specifically - the guy sure loved his flowers. There was an excitement to Cas’ tone whenever he rambled about plants, eyes faraway until he came back to reality and looked awkward when he realised he’d been talking about the origin of a daisy for ten minutes. But Dean kind of loved to listen to it; he didn’t give a shit about plants, but there was something great about listening to someone speak about their passion.

Not wanting to embarrass Cas any further by the look of his red cheeks, Dean chose not to continue with the conversation. The guy was probably already feeling self-conscious after what his boss had said to him.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh though, secretly chuffed that Cas would have tried his hardest to do something for Dean to say thank you for doing something so basic as being his friend. “Come on,” he waggled his eyebrows, “I’ll get you some of that beloved tea of yours.”

“It tastes nice,” Castiel grumbled, huffing and puffing as he followed Dean to the kitchen, a ritual they always followed when Cam came over now.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” Dean rolled his eyes. Not really thinking about it, Dean grabbed a fridge magnet and stuck the note onto the fridge before reaching into it to grab the milk.

“So, Charlie was pretty cool.” Dean made conversation.

“Yes. She is.” Cas’ face lit up; he obviously thought a lot about Charlie, not that that was surprising to Dean. “She had very nice things to say about you too.”

“That’s cause I’m easily loveable.” He winked. “So,” Dean licked his lips, raising an eyebrow as the kettle started to bubble, “you came all this way to my apartment just to say thank you?”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded, not even questioning it, not even thinking that it was odd to put that much effort for something so small.

“Cas,” Dean shook his head, slightly in disbelief, “you don’t need to thank me for what I did earlier. I was just being a friend; it’s not like I threw myself out of a plane for you and skydived with a broken parachute. I just listened to you.” He shrugged, feeling awkward that Castiel always seemed to put him on some kind of pedestal, like he was some kind of hero. “Honestly, you don’t need to thank me. It’s no big deal.”

“Well, it is to me,” Castiel argued. “Not many people have ever wished to listen to me rattle on before.”

“Then you’ve met some shitty people in your life.” Dean pointed the teaspoon at Cas, feeling the same anger he had when he’d saw the bruise on Cas’ cheek. The whole thing fucking confused him, completely so; that someone like Cas would be able to say something like that. Sure, if a guy was a total tool, Dean would understand why no one would want to be around them. But Cas? He was _Cas._ A good guy, perhaps the best, kindest person that Dean had ever met. If someone like Cas couldn’t get friends on his side, who the fuck could?

Again, it reminded Dean that he didn’t know all that much about Cas. And the shit he _did_ know just sounded incredibly sad. Dean didn’t know much about the guys’ past, other than that he’d travelled around a bit. And that he didn’t look like he had much of a family, if any, and hardly any people he would call friends either. One time, Dean had mentioned something in passing, something to do with his childhood. He couldn’t quite remember what it was, some TV show or something, but he’d asked Cas about it, about what he’d done when he was a kid. At the question, he’d completely shut down, enough for Dean to realise that certain areas of Cas’ life were a no go. He didn’t know why, but Cas didn’t want to talk about it. And Dean wasn’t going to push.

“You’re a good guy,” Dean reiterated, passing Cas his cup of tea, “and you deserve good friends. Fuck anyone who says any different, okay?”

Castiel huffed. “Thank you, Dean.” He blew at his tea, that was in a new mug that Dean had bought just for Cas to use when he came over. It had a ginger cat emblazoned on the side, the tail going up the handle of the cup. It was the kind of novelty gift that Dean hated, but that hadn’t stopped him from buying it.

Carefully, Castiel started to lead them back to the couches, coming to a stop for a moment, though Dean couldn’t understand why. Just as Castiel started to speak, Dean realised he’d stopped at the cabinet that was tucked in the far corner of the room, out of visitor’s gazes. Of course, apparently not hidden enough for Castiel to not notice it.

“Are these your parents?” he asked curiously.

At those four simple words, Dean’s heart dropped.

“Oh,” Dean said tightly, “uh, yeah,” he swallowed, close to dropping his coffee, spilling it on the floor, like spilling out his guts. That sounded like a gentler time than talking about his parents.

Not realising the trouble he was causing Dean, Castiel cocked his head to the side. “Your mother looks almost familiar. She’s very beautiful,” he noted, “you look like her.” Cas’ eyes crinkled as his fingertips glided over the photo, not quite touching it.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, wincing at the phrase that had once pleased him, but now had bothered him for years; looking in the mirror and seeing his mother’s face wasn’t a fun experience every morning, “a lot of people say I looked like her.”

Whether it was what Dean had said or that Cas had noticed the upset in Dean’s voice, Castiel’s gaze quickly switched over to look at Dean. “Looked?” he asked slowly, concern in his features, a small crease forming between his eyebrows.

“Uh,” Dean licked his lips, throat going dry, “yeah,” he nodded, focusing on a speck of dust on the coffee table so he wouldn’t have to look at Cas, anything but Cas, “she, uh, died six years ago,” he swallowed again, hating the lump forming in his throat, “and my dad did too.”

Cas’ hand fell to his side as soon as he realised his mistake, the corners of his lips tugging down. “Oh Dean, I’m sorry.” He murmured; Dean had to hand it to him, he actually sounded sorry unlike half of the people who had uttered those words to him over the past few years.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Dean tried to brush it away, like he always did, because pushing it aside made it so he didn’t have to think about it either, “it was six years ago.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry and that it hurts any less.” Castiel said with a simple shake of his head, sounding far more in tune with the topic than Dean would expect. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, hesitating, like he could tell that Dean was struggling with the topic. Which wasn’t a fucking surprise now was it?

Dean was all ready to bite back that no, he didn’t want to talk about it and that Cas should go fuck himself. An automatic response for Dean. If anyone asked him about it, or passively mentioned it to him when they saw him on the street because they’d once known John or Mary and ‘it was such a shame that it happened’, Dean wanted to yell at them to fuck off. No one undersood it and it was pointless for Dean to even _try_ to talk about it.

But then he saw Cas’ expression. He wasn’t asking to snoop or give him fake pity like so many people in the damn town did. He was asking because he wanted to see if Dean genuinely wanted to talk about it. Dean remembered how Cas had confided that he had never had someone to listen to him before, so perhaps he was trying to return the favour to Dean.

“There’s not much to talk about,” Dean muttered, scratching under his eye as he shrugged. “We were going to my college graduation. My dad insisted on us all going together.”

He still remembered it, how Dean had been willing to meet up with them at graduation as it would have been easier for them all. But John had insisted they should all go together. If Dean had only argued against it then everything would have been different. If Dean had spoken up and not been such a fucking pushover, everything would have been _okay._

Dean settled his coffee on the coffee table, perching on the couch. “So,” he smiled bitterly, “I drove down to pick them all up. Mom, Dad, and Sammy. And then we were driving back to campus. One of my friends was still in the dorms and he had my gown there so it wouldn’t get wrinkled on the drive,” he explained, a friend he hadn’t spoken to in years now. “The plan was for me to drop them off at the auditorium, I’d go get dressed and then they’d next see me on stage.”

Dean swallowed, barely noticing that Cas had abandoned his tea and had stepped forward to place a comforting hand on his forearm. “Anyway,” he dry swallowed again, feeling like he was about to vomit, “I was, uh, driving and –“ he raised a shoulder defensively, stomach churning, “and a truck came out of nowhere, veered from the other side of the road and smashed into us. The semi driver had fallen asleep at the wheel. Turns out, he was about to be a dad; his girlfriend was pregnant and he was taking up extra hours at both of his jobs to try and get some money together for the baby.”

He could feel tears in his eyes but he tried to ignore it, furious that he was letting it get to him so long after it had happened. “It wasn’t his fault. He was just trying to do right by his kid.” He bit his bottom lip harshly, hard enough to draw blood to the surface. “Ended up being dead instead.”

“ _Dean,_ ” Cas said, pained.

Cas may as well have not been there, Dean couldn’t even register his existence. “My mom died instantly,” he mumbled, “my dad did too.”

“Dean,” Castiel repeated himself, trying to get through to Dean, “I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head to get out of his own trance, Dean shrugged off Cas’ hand as he angrily rubbed at his eyes for betraying him. “Like I said,” he sniffed, “it was six years ago.”

“No,” Castiel interrupted him, a harshness into his tone as he willed Dean to understand, “don’t do that. Don’t say that as if you should be fine with it now because it’s been six years. That’s not how the world works, Dean.” His voice softened, “Just because it’s been a while doesn’t mean that you suddenly have to be better. Everyone deals with things in a different way and losing someone or –“ he faltered, swallowing before continuing on, “or something - that pain doesn’t fully go away and you shouldn’t put pressure on yourself to make it that way.”

For the first time in what felt like an incredibly long time, Dean’s grief felt validated. And wasn’t that fucking something in itself? But the validation didn’t stop him from feeling like shit. Funny that.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean swiped the screen with his thumb and then put the phone to his ear. “Hey Sammy, what’s up?”

There was no greeting, just a simple, “where are you?”

“Uh.” Dean frowned, wondering why Sam was asking him that; it wasn’t exactly often that Sam started to sound like he was being an overzealous brother who wanted to know what Dean was doing every second of the day. “I’m with Cas, we’re –“ he transferred the phone to his other ear, “I was gonna show him some of the cheap places in town, y’know, to get some more furniture seeing as he’s decided to stick around here.” He smiled at Cas, who smiled back, waiting patiently.

There was a pause and then a small sigh from Sam, loud enough to be heard over the phone. “Oh. Can you- Can you come to my apartment instead?” he asked quietly, voice small.

Automatically, Dean was on red alert. “Sammy,” he filtered everything else out and gave his sole attention to his little brother, “what’s wrong?”

“I just- My head is all –“ Sam sighed. By the tone in his voice, Dean knew that Sam was currently pacing the room and close to pulling on his hair. “I’m having a bad day, Dean,” he admitted.

“What happened?” Dean demanded, ignoring Cas’ look of concern.

There was another irritating pause that made Dean want to throw his phone in impatient frustration. As soon as Sam spoke, however, Dean understood why he’d hesitated.

“I thought I saw Ruby in town.”

Someone might have just punched Dean right in the fucking chest. “What?” he asked, blood running cold.

“It wasn’t her.” Sam eased his worried quickly, though Dean was still scared shitless as he listened to Sam’s wavering voice. “But for a split second, I thought it was. I really thought it was her, Dean. And, I don’t know, it’s just made me think back to it all and now I can’t get it out of my head.”

“Right, okay Sammy. Is Jess with you?” Dean tried to keep his cool, knowing that was what was most important in moments like this. He’d always been told that if Sam freaked, he couldn’t freak out beside him. He needed to be stay level and sort the shit out _calmly._

“No, she’s- she’s at school and I didn’t want to call her. She’s got one of her big exams today and the last thing she needs to deal with is me calling her with a big panic about nothing,” Sam explained. “I thought I’d call you instead.”

“Okay, okay.” Dean nodded to himself, trying to tell himself that everything was fine, even though his shaking hands were saying otherwise. “I’m coming there right now, okay?”

“Okay, Dean.” Sam’s voice softened in relief, telling Dean that the guy was definitely trying to dampen down his worry. After another pause, Sam added, “Cas can come too.”

Glancing over at a patient, but concerned looking Cas, Dean asked, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Sam reaffirmed. “I just need some people around me, y’know?”

The silent ‘ _So I don’t do anything stupid’_ was unsaid, but they both knew it was there. A painful niggling thing that would never go away, not ever, no matter how hard they both tried. It was always going to be a stain on their souls that nothing would erase.

“Okay.” Dean nodded to himself again. “You want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No.” Sam huffed tiredly. “Shit, I’m not about to go off the rails. It’s not t _hat_ bad a day, Dean. I just –“ he sighed, “I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“We’ll be there in fifteen at the most.” Dean finalised, ready to get off the phone and get to Sam as soon as fucking possible. Sam wasn’t on the edge of a breakdown, Dean could see that clearly, but that didn’t stop Dean’s heart thrumming hard in his chest. He needed to get there and see Sam in the flesh before he could even think about relaxing. Like Dean, Sam had the annoying trait of pretending everything was fine to everyone so he wouldn’t cause a bother.

“Thanks Dean,” Sam replied before the phone shut off. Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket, running a hand over his tired face.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked immediately after the phone call was over.

Feeling panic bubble in his throat, Dean replied quickly, “Uh, we’re gonna have to the furniture store another day.” He was babbling but he couldn’t stop himself from fucking doing it. He patted his jacket pocket, even though he’d only just fucking put it in there. “You mind visiting Sam instead?”

God bless him, even though Castiel looked entirely confused, he simply nodded and led the way to his car. No questions asked. Just like that. Jesus, Dean often wondered what the hell he’d done to have someone like Cas as a friend. But that was a question he had for everyone in his life, which was really not something he should be delving into right now. Self-hatred could fucking wait until later.

Within a few minutes, they were strapped into Cas’ car and on their way to Sam and Jess’ apartment. The speed of it all didn’t rattle Dean’s nerves; he wouldn’t be calm until he saw Sam that was okay. His fists kept clenching and unclenching, teeth grinding together as he thought of Sam alone in his apartment, of Ruby who had singlehandedly ruined his little brother’s life, of the guy next to him who still wasn’t pushing Dean to explain what the hell was going on.

“Uh.” Dean coughed, realising that speaking about it might distract him enough to not have some kind of aneurism before they got to their intended destination. “I’m guessing Sammy is okay with me telling you this because he said it was okay for you to come with me.”

“Okay,” Castiel said slowly, still not pushing for an answer.

There was no way of sugar coating it, of making it sound less bad and tragic. Nor was there a way to make it sound romantic and whimsical like they did in shitty movies that had Dean eye rolling for years. So, without much ado, Dean just came out and said it.

“Sam’s a recovering drug addict.”

Coolly, he watched Cas’ reaction like a hawk. The way people reacted to Sam’s past was always a deal breaker for Dean; one time, he’d told someone to fuck off and had never spoken to them again when they’d snorted and said they hadn’t realised the ‘perfect boy was actually one of _those_ people.’ Dean had got rid of them and _fast._

Like Dean had hoped for, Castiel didn’t react negatively. Sure, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he pressed his lips together in a thin line, but there was no visual outrage. It shouldn’t have surprised Dean, Cas and Sam had hit it off. They were both apparently fans of the same kind of books, chatting animatedly about authors that Dean had never heard of. Vonnegut was his kind of thing, not the highbrow, boring shit that they liked. For god’s sake, they like _nonfiction_ books. That shit would bore Dean to tears. Give him a book that would transport him into another world any day over a book that talked about shit he already knew.

Still, Cas and Sam befriending each other, as well as Jess taking Cas under her wing as they were both animal lovers, should have told Dean that Cas wouldn’t hold anything in Sam’s past against him.

“Okay,” Castiel replied, no judgement in his tone.

“He’s having a bad day today,” Dean explained, tapping his fingers against his knee impatiently. “Thought he saw Ruby,” he muttered, hating even saying the woman’s name.

“Ruby?” Castiel enquired politely.

“Shit, I might as well just explain from the start.” Dean sighed, quickly realising he was doing a fucking terrible job of filling him in. “It all – Shit – It all started after the crash. I was… A mess,” Dean admitted, “and I was still a mess when Sammy woke up in the hospital. And then I was still a mess when he was ready to go home. I just – I never wanted to talk about it, but Sam wanted nothing _but_ to talk about it.” He looked down at his clenched fists as he admitted, voice small. “Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if I’d just talked to him, y’know?”

“You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions, Dean,” Castiel interjected, shaking his head sadly. Whether it was the words or the action, something about it got to Dean.

“Our parents were gone,” Dean snapped back, nostrils flaring, “he was my responsibility.”

“That doesn’t mean you could control him,” Castiel replied.

No words to argue back, Dean just brushed it aside and continued with his story. Castiel wasn’t going to get him to change his mind and apparently, no matter what Dean said, Cas wasn’t going to change his mind on it either. Better to let it go than start an argument.

“Anyway. Sam was struggling. He’d just graduated high school. He’d been planning to go to Harvard in September, he pretty much had a free pass to go there, the clever little shit. But,” Dean swallowed dryly, “then the crash happened and he said he was going to wait a while, maybe start in the second semester instead.”

Castiel hummed as a way to show that he was listening, gaze on the road ahead but clearly paying what attention he could to Dean’s words.

“And then he met Ruby,” Dean carried on. He still perfectly remembered what she looked like even now, thick brown hair that was subtly waved, deep brown eyes that always seemed to be hiding something, pale sking and a wide mouth that was always smirking. Instantly, Dean had taken a dislike to her as soon as he’d met her. Something about her had never felt right. But Sam had been the complete opposite, taking a shine to her and running after her with puppy eyes. Even though Dean hadn’t liked her, he’d thought that maybe Ruby would be good for Sam; a welcome distraction from the crash, something to put his mind on other than their dead parents. In the end, Dean had been right, but for all the wrong reasons.

“She was two years older than him. He practically doted on her. They were kind of dating I guess,” Dean shrugged, “but it was never anything official, y’know? Anyway, Sam was will hurting and – and she told him how to feel better.”

“Drugs?” Castiel asked quietly, thought it was more of a statement than anything; he’d obviously long since figured out what the end to Dean’s story was going to be.

“Yeah. Drugs.” Dean laughed bitterly. “I didn’t figure it out at first. He came home a few times hopping from one foot to the other, but I just thought he’d been drinking. I told him off for it but I felt like a hypocrite because I was pretty much doing the same thing to handle what had happened. But then I started to put it together. He started to get thinner. And the dark circles were so fucking dark, Cas. Even his damn hair was greasy. And then he started staying out the entire night, scared the shit out of me. Pissed me off even more when he’d come home the next morning or afternoon with a giant, dopey grin on his face, saying that he’d just lost track of time. So yeah,” Dean shut his eyes, blowing out a small breath, “I figured it out.

“I told him he needed help. I practically _begged_ him to get help. But he said there was nothing wrong with him. And she was _always_ fucking _there_ in the background with that stupid fucking smirk on her face. And I just,” Dean swallowed thickly, “I just watched my brother slowly fall apart, watched him become unrecognisable. I didn’t know what to do. Trying to keep him locked up didn’t work, screaming at him didn’t work, and even bringing up Mom and Dad and how disappointed they’d be didn’t work. I was – I was at a fucking loss. No one could get through to him. Not me. Not Bobby. Not anyone. It was like she was sucking the life out of him.”

“How long did it last?” Castiel questioned, voice quiet.

“Around six, seven months. And it got worse and worse near the end. Anyway,” he rubbed at his face, pushing a hand through his hair as he tiredly recounted, “he ended up overdosing. Ruby messed up and gave him too much. The one and only thing that she did that I will ever be grateful for is that she called for an ambulance. If she hadn’t done that,” Dean felt ill even voicing it, “god knows what would have happened to him. She didn’t wait for the ambulance to come though, she just dialled them and left.” He said bitterly, fingernails digging into his skin where he clenched them into fists. “She was too worried about saving her own ass to care about Sam, not that she ever cared about him in the first place.

“After that, after Sam woke up in the hospital, he wanted to change his life around. He finally wanted to get the help. Thankfully, he wasn’t too far gone, y’know? He wasn’t downright addicted like some people can get, the ones who would stab their damn mom to score. But he was getting close to that, I could tell, close to taking the hard stuff. In the end I found a unit that could take him, pretty much used all my share of my parents’ insurance to pay for it. I had no idea how expensive it was.”

He sighed, still relieved after all these years that Sam had gotten the help he’d needed.

“But, it worked. Sam got off the drugs. He’s been clean since then, though there’s been days like this, days where he can maybe feel like he’s slipping down that route again.” He licked his lips and added, “He said it’s not a _really_ bad day though, so that’s good. So yeah. That’s what happened in a nutshell.”

Castiel pressed his lips together as he apparently tried to find the words. That was something about Castiel, he thought about what he was going to say. He was the opposite of Dean, who would roar out some shit without thinking about it. And most likely regret it later. Castiel thought first and spoke later, perhaps a way to make it so he wouldn’t have anything to apologise for, unlike Dean who word vomited at least once a week.

“I’m –“ he paused, tipping his head to the left as he turned to look at Dean, an unhappy expression clearly painted onto his features, “I’m sorry that you and Sam had to go through that. You both have had to deal with a lot for two people who are so young. It’s unfair.”

“Yeah, well, shit happens,” Dean grumbled.

“Still,” Castiel cocked his head, “an awful lot of shit has been sent your way.”

The meaning behind the words themselves were depressing, but hearing Cas curse and the way his mouth was slowly curling upwards in a smile that was probably there to make Dean feel better worked on Dean. Dean didn’t know how the fuck he did it, but Cas was an expert in cheering him up, even in the worse of situations like now. Perhaps it should have worried Dean that someone who’d only known him for such a short space of time had the power to do that over people who he’d known for years and years. But he could only see the positives in having someone like Cas in his life.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, huffing, “a lot of shit has happened.”

“We’re here.” Castiel nodded to the exterior of the car, a soft downpour rattling the windows that Dean had only just noticed. Trust the weather to get worse as soon as they needed to go outdoors. Dazed still, it took Dean another moment to register what Cas had said, another few seconds for him to realise the meaning behind the words.

“Oh.” Dean blinked, scrambling out of the car, shutting the door with a thud before he raced to the entrance of the rundown apartment complex. Castiel wasn’t far behind.

Heart still hammering when they got to the front door, the fast beat of his chest didn’t relent even when Dean set eyes on his little brother. He was hunched in on himself, looking far shorter than his normal gigantic frame. Dark circles were harbouring under his eyes and his hair was a mess, he’d definitely been pulling at the strands to give himself something to do. In moments like now, Sam needed a distraction, something to busy himself so he wouldn’t do what once had been an automatic reaction of popping a pill.

Without saying a word, Dean stepped forward and hugged him, squeezing him tightly. Like this, Dean always saw Sam as a scared little kid, his four year old self who would follow Dean everywhere and hold his hand when he got frightened. And honestly? It broke Dean’s heart every fucking time.

“You okay?” he murmured, not bothering to hide the worry in his tone. Even if he attempted it, Sam would see through the bullshit anyway.

Sam sighed, bringing up his own arms to hug Dean back. “Yeah.” He mumbled.

“You sure, little brother?” Dean took a step back to properly look at Sam’s face to see whether Sam was lying or not.

“Yeah, honestly,” Sam nodded, “I’m okay.” He looked from Dean to Cas and then waved them inside. “Come in.”

Instead of following the request, Castiel awkwardly lingered at the door frame, making Dean frown.

“I can leave if you wish me to. I don’t want to be unwanted. If you’d prefer me not to be here, I can leave.”

Even though Dean wanted to shout back that Cas would never be unwanted and he should never fucking call himself that, he knew that he wasn’t the one in control of the situation. It was Sam’s home, not his. Maybe Sam might have changed his mind and no longer wanted Cas around, choosing to just want Dean to see him in his worse a moments. Thankfully, Sam had the exact thought as Dean.

“No Cas, it’s fine, honestly.” He smiled tiredly. “Anyway,” the smile turned more genuine, “it stops me from having to deal with just Dean on his own. The guy’s a nightmare.”

“Hey,” Dean shoved him playfully, “asshole.”

“Sure Dean. I’m the asshole out of the two of us.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“I’m not an asshole. Cas would definitely agree.” Dean turned to include Cas in the ridiculousness, who had finally taken a step into the apartment and shut the door behind him. “I’m definitely not an asshole, am I?”

Castiel smiled wryly. “I may not have siblings of my own but I’m smart enough to know it’s never a good idea to involve myself in sibling quarrels.”

Dean turned to Sam and grinned. “That means he thinks _you’re_ the asshole.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sam was smiling, the tiredness disappearing for a second as he shoved Dean, just like they had done when they were kids and would play fight. Of course, when they were kids, Dean has always pretended to be meek so Sam could win, always terrified that he’d end up hurting his little brother.

“Anyway, get us coffee and tea,” Dean demanded, “and then we’ll watch some shit or we can play one of your shitty video games.” He decided; he knew Sam wouldn’t want to talk about what had happened, preferring a healthy distraction instead. Sam had said what he needed to say over the phone and now he wanted it to be pushed aside for a while. A perfect pretence that everything was just _fine._ After a few hours he’d want to talk, but by then Jess would probably be home and she’d talk it through with him. Her willingness to listen was one of the things Dean loved so much about Jess, she would patiently listen to Sam and never make him feel guilty for having a bad day. Somehow, she understood. She got that the addiction would never go away, that it was always there in the back of Sam’s brain, egging him to go back to what he once was. She understood and never even thought about punishing Sam for it.

“Yeah, okay,” Sam said, “I’ll be right back.”

Castiel looked around the apartment approvingly; having never been there before, it was a most likely a big difference to Dean’s place in Cas’ eyes. In short, Sam and Jess were messy. They didn’t crazily organise like Dean did. On their coffee table alone, there were an array of different textbooks piled up, an empty coffee cup that Jess must have left there in the morning when she’d rushed off to work, some spare change, and a hair brush. Their apartment wasn’t _dirty,_ it was clean with no cobwebs in sight, but it wasn’t neatened out like Dean’s place.

Not only that, but they were students. Most of their furniture was second hand or basic. They’d only moved into the place a year and a half ago after initially staying in a shitty apartment that had turned out to be a nightmare. Because of their experience with the other apartment and because they planned to get a new place when Sam went to law school and Jess finished her degree and properly started working at an animal hospital, they hadn’t bothered to overly decorate the place, unlike Dean’s apartment as he didn’t plan on moving any time soon.

The apartment was clearly owned by students, a cosy living room, a tiny kitchen, and an okay sized bedroom and bathroom. It suited them, an in between place before they got a ‘proper’ home they could stay in for more long term.

Unsurprisingly, Castiel was taken to the photographs lined up on the fireplace while Dean sat down. Differently to Dean, Sam put all of his photos as pride of place, rather than tucking them away in the corner. Out of the two of them, Sam had always been the open one, the one who wanted to talk about feelings, who wanted to talk about their mom and dad and all the other shitty stuff that happened. Dean wanted to hide things from sight, while Sam liked to put a spotlight on them.

Castiel’s gaze lingered on one photo, a small smile lighting up his features.

“Where was this taken?” Castiel asked, carefully picking up the photo frame to show it to Dean.

Dean leant forward on the couch, squinting at the photo. All four of them – himself, Sam, and their parents – were squished onto the photo. John’s arm was extended out as he took the photo, all of them grinning cheerily. Looking at Sam, he was around seven or eight, which meant Dean had to be at least eleven, still baby-faced and freckled over his nose. It hit Dean how happy they all looked, just like any other family.

“At our cabin,” Dean explained, heart constricting at the memory. “We used to go there at least every summer. It’s only forty minutes away, if that. But it was our version of a vacation. At the time, we couldn’t afford anything else,” he shrugged, “it was always good fun. That year, my dad taught me how to fish. Sammy tried as well but he was god awful at it and kept crying about us killing the fish even though we put them back in the water. He was more of a hazard to himself than anything.”

“That sounds like a good memory,” Castiel said carefully, watching Dean as he spoke, perhaps to ensure that it was an okay topic. With most people, Dean wouldn’t be comfortable to talk about it, but now Cas knew everything about the crash. Somehow that made him a guy that Dean was okay with talking about the normally forbidden topics. About what Dean’s life used to be like, when he was happy, when everything was _good._

“Yeah it is.” Dean nodded. “It’s funny, we got the cabin at a pretty shitty time.” He scratched the back of his neck, not understanding why he felt the need to share the information with Cas, but he continued with it anyway. For some reason, Cas had a face and gentle manner that Dean just wanted to open up to.

“My mom had just lost her job and my dad and Bobby were only just starting out the garage and y’know how it is with new businesses, it can be difficult to get new customers and all that. I wasn’t that old at the time. I think I was eight, but I remember we were struggling with cash. I was wearing clothes out of a thrift store and out of the box from church. Clothes that people had donated or clothes that used to be in the lost and found boxes in different places and were given to the church when no one came forward for them.” He shrugged. “It was a struggle.”

He chose not to add that he remembered the arguments, his stressed mother and father biting and snapping at each other, even his dad disappearing for a few weeks that one time. Dean didn’t like to think about those times. Stupidly, it felt like the memory tarnished his parents if he brought it up; he didn’t want Cas to think badly of them. Dean liked to remember them as the loving couple they were later on in the years, not the young couple who’d fought and nearly broke apart.

“We’ve all been there,” Castiel murmured, a pain in his voice that made Dean know he wasn’t just saying it for the sake of it. Thinking to how Cas struggled for money told Dean that Cas knew all too well what it was like to be anxiously waiting for the next pay check.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Anyway, uh, my dad’s parents passed away. And even though that was really fucking shitty, obviously, we got some money and the cabin. It was enough to tide us over until my mom got another job and the garage started to pick up customers. Weirdly, that cabin kind of became our, I don’t know, our –“

“Beacon of hope,” Castiel finished off the sentence.

“Yeah. Exactly.” Dean huffed a smile, glad that Cas _got it._

“Do you still have the cabin?” Castiel asked quietly, a gentle lull to the words.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “we still have it. Haven’t been there in years though.” The unspoken words that they hadn’t been there since the crash didn’t need to be said, Castiel understood already. Dean didn’t want to mention that Sam had been pushing to go there for ages though; he didn’t want to admit that to Cas and show how much of a coward he was that he refused to go back to the cabin now there weren’t any parents to go with them.

Castiel opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Sam reappearing. Quickly, Dean composed himself as he watched Sam come back in, struggling with three cups, which shouldn’t have been difficult with his giant hands.

“Here’s your tea, Cas.” Sam placed it on the coffee table, making Dean twitch because he didn’t put it on a coaster. Unperturbed, Castiel placed the photograph back in its place as he thanked Sam.

“And here’s yours, Dean.” Sam put it nearer to Dean before sitting next to him, his own coffee in his hand.

“You made sure to put three sugars in Cas’, right?” Dean asked.

“Yeah don’t worry. I didn’t forget from when you told me and made a massive fucking deal out of it,” Sam laughed.

“I didn’t make _that_ big a deal.” Dean was close to pouting; he didn’t want Cas to think he was talking behind his back and making fun of him or something. That had never been Dean’s style.

Castiel leaned in conspiringly. “I’m already very aware of Dean’s feelings towards my tea and sugar addiction.”

“You should join the coffee side,” Sam joked, “it’s more fun.”

“Coffee tastes awful,” Castiel scrunched up his nose in distaste, “I tried it and it was horrible. I don’t know how anyone can like it.”

“No one likes it when they first try it,” Dean shrugged, “you just have to power through and then bam, you suddenly love it.”

That only confused Castiel all the more, who finally left the line of photographs on the fireplace and instead sat down on the extra seat. “Why would you continue to drink something you don’t like in the hopes of eventually liking it?” He reached out and grabbed his cup of beloved tea, smiling when he saw the picture of a poodle on the cup. “I’d much prefer to stick with something that tasted nice from the start.” He blew at the top of his drink, a small, slightly smug, smile on his face.

“Okay, chill out.” Dean rolled his eyes playfully. Castiel only grinned harder behind his cup, making Dean shake his head and chuckle. He had to hand it to the guy, he was as stubborn as Dean was. And that was fucking saying something.

Sam coughed, looking at Dean in a weird way for a moment, torn between smiling and frowning. Just as Dean was about to question it, Sam switched the conversation to something else entirely.

“Anyway. You said on the phone that you two were planning on going furniture shopping?”

“Yes,” Castiel nodded, “as I’m saying in town long term, I thought it would be good to maybe get some more furnishings. My house is a little –“ he cocked his head to the side and looked away, “bare.” He admitted, sounding slightly embarrassed, though Dean didn’t think he should feel that way at all.

“Dean suggested a store in town that’s second hand and he thought that him being there might get me some sort of a discount.” He smiled at Dean. “Dean’s apartment is nice so I thought that he could give me some good advice on what to buy.”

“I’ve always told you Sammy, I clearly have good taste. Better than you anyway,” Dean boasted. In truth, when Castiel had mentioned getting more furniture for the house, Dean had been thrilled, but worried that Cas wouldn’t have enough money to buy anything from some of the stores in town. That’s why Dean had recommended the second hand store that was crammed with good furniture for half of the price. Cas could buy things without worrying about not being able to pay his bills. Sure, Castiel had never mentioned that he struggled with money, but it was clear to Dean; a guy who had travelled a lot and had a nine to five job at the local florist wasn’t going to be living the high life. Dean certainly wasn’t.

“Sure, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes childishly before actually admitting something nice about Dean for a change. “Dean’s good with that kind of stuff, it’s true. He’ll help you out Cas, but you won’t find most of Dean’s furniture in a store though.”

Dean stiffened at the same time that Castiel frowned. “Why not?”

“He made most of them himself.” Sam shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. Immaturely, Dean hoped it burnt his tongue. Of course Sam would have forgotten that Dean didn’t like talking about that, _of course._ Dean could only think that after all the stress of thinking he saw Ruby, Sam was struggling to keep his head in check. It made sense, which made Dean feel guilty for hoping that he’d scald himself on coffee.

The fact that Cas’ eyes lit up in wonder also kind of softened to blow for Dean too. “You did?” Castiel asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, “my dad taught me.”

Noting the discomfort, Castiel chose to end it there, simply nodding. “That’s very impressive.”

Sam stayed quiet, probably realising his mistake. Forcing a smile, Dean quickly switched the topic to something else, ready to forget it already. “Anyway, are we gonna watch something? Maybe play that video game you keep talking about?”

“The one that you lost the last time you were here?” Sam asked, grinning widely in a way that made Dean want to slap him. And throttle him. And kick him in the ass for good measure.

Huffing, Dean crossed his arms. “Only because you’ve practised more than me. You have an unfair advantage.” He pointed out, because it was true. For a busy student, Sam sure spent a lot of his time on dumb video games. Dumb video games that Dean really wanted to beat him on but always failed.

“Whatever Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“So you want to play, or?” Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Sam looked from Dean to his coffee cup, smile fading. For a short moment, Dean had forgotten why they’d come here. But Sam’s hunched shoulders and small voice re-reminded Dean of all the shit.

“Couldn’t we just talk instead?”

Dean got it. Sam was always the talker. If something was making him feel bad, he didn’t always want to be distracted by video games or a good book; he’d much prefer just chatting to his friends about stupid shit. Sam was very much a people person. Dean had noticed though, that while Sam liked to talk about his problems, he never really _talked._ There was a lot of things left unsaid, more than Dean would initially realise after the conversation. Meanwhile, when Dean finally opened up, he opened up the damn floodgates and vomited everything out to the poor unsuspecting person who had been stuck listening to him.

“Yeah,” Dean tried to stay supportive, “okay. What about?”

That, Sam didn’t have an answer to. “Anything.” He shrugged.

Saving them from an awkward silence that Dean would end up filling with random shit as he tried to think of something to say, Castiel spoke up. “You could tell me some more stories about the town, about you, from before I got here. And I could,” he licked his eternally chapped lips (Dean wondered whether it would be weird to buy him a chapstick), “I could tell you some of the stories of the sights I’ve seen while travelling. Not that I have much to offer, but still, we could do that.”

“What, exchange stories?” Dean thought aloud. “That sounds pretty cool.” He said, eager to know more about Cas. In some respects – Scratch that, in a _lot_ of aspects, Castiel was very much a closed book.

“I’ll start,” Sam announced, smile turning in a way that made Dean instantly nervous. “How about that time that you hit on a woman and she slapped you?” he asked Dean with an irritating grin.

Dean smacked him on the arm, uncaring that the coffee might spill. “Don’t say it like that, you make me sound like a sleazeball!” He looked at Cas nervously, hoping that he wasn’t thinking that exact thing about Dean. He didn’t want Cas to think differently of him over some dumb story.

“And it was your fault I got slapped!” he hissed at Sam, cheeks heating up even though he tried his hardest to stop it.

“How was it his fault?” Cas enquired after a sip of his tea. He didn’t look judgemental, more ready to laugh at Dean’s expense than anything.

“I was meeting Sam and Jess there.” Dean took over the story so Sam couldn’t twist it in a way that made Dean sound even more like an idiot. “Well, five minutes before I got there, this girl started running her mouth. She was telling the bartender –“

“Well,” Sam interjected, “the whole bar.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded in agreement, “she was telling everyone, a little drunkenly, that she was fed up with men.”

“She’d just broken up with her boyfriend or something,” Sam added with a sip of his coffee.

“So she had this massive rant about hating men. And then I turn up. I was just talking to Sam and Jess and then I spotted her. She was hot so I thought I would try and chat her up.” He faltered when he saw Cas’ face fall at that. “I don’t know.” Dean shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of it since Cas clearly didn’t approve; maybe Dean was making himself to sound like some desperate guy or something. “I didn’t realise she was drunk either, she was just sitting there as calm as can be.” He added, ensuring that he didn’t sound like a creep. Sure, he hit on women at bars and had one night stands but he wasn’t a letch.

“And Sam and Jess suddenly decide to carry on being assholes and not tell me what had just happened.” He glared at Sam who only snorted. “So I go say hi. Within seconds, she’s slapping me around the face and screaming at me.”

“Everyone started laughing. It was fucking hilarious,” Sam hooted, clapping his hands like some excited sea lion.

“Hilarious for you maybe!” Dean complained. “She could have shot me. Not to mention you pissed off the poor woman. She’d just gone out for a drink.” He pointed out with a scowl.

“She didn’t seem too sad. She was singing karaoke five seconds later. She was enjoying herself,” Sam said.

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, “you still got me a slap in the face.”

Sam continued to laugh, long enough to make Dean want to hit him in at the back of his head. Unsurprisingly, most things that Sam did earned that response from Dean. It must have been a sibling thing. That or Sam was just fucking annoying.

“Cas,” Sam looked over at a slightly bewildered looking Castiel, “I bet you’ve never had _that_ bad a comeback against a woman you were flirting with.”

At that, Cas’ face changed, amused. “No,” he feigned innocence, smiling wryly in Dean’s direction, “definitely not.”

“Well, that’s just not fair.” Dean crossed his arms in complaint that his friend was working against him. He was supposed to be on _his_ side, the fucker.

“What isn’t? Am I missing something?” Sam asked, looking from one knowing face to the other. Sam hated being the last one to know shit.

“I don’t flirt with women,” Castiel explained, still looking awfully proud of himself.

“Huh? I don’t –“ Sam still wasn’t getting it.

Rolling his eyes exasperatedly, Dean smacked Sam on the arm. “He’s gay, you walnut.”

“Oh. Shit.” Sam winced when he realised his epic mistake, the exact same mistake that Dean had made. “Sorry for assuming that you were –“

“It’s fine.” Cas brushed it aside with a wave of his hand and a warm smile. Castiel did that a lot, Dean realised, brushing things aside whenever anyone said or did something stupid around him. Either the guy was quick on forgiveness or he was so desperate to have friends he was okay with people being idiotic. Dean hoped it was the former because the latter was too fucking depressing to think about.

“Anyway, moral of the story,” Dean told Cas somewhat seriously, “Sam and Jess are the worst when they’re working together.”

“I only see that as a good thing,” Sam snorted, much to Dean’s irritation and Cas’ quiet amusement.

“How did you and Jess meet?” Castiel inquired, taking another gulp of his tea before going to place it on the coffee table so his hands were free. His gaze searched for a coaster but when he realised there wasn’t one, he kept it in his grip instead. “I know it was at college,” He offered.

“Oh god,” Dean groaned. “They haven’t told you about their first meeting yet? That’s normally the thing they start blabbering about five seconds into meeting someone new.”

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam bit back in a way that only siblings could do without getting punched in the face.

“I think it’s sweet.” Castiel smiled.

Dean groaned again, pretending to be offended. “Don’t encourage him, jesus.”

“It was at the college library.” Sam ignored Dean like a fucking pro. “I work there and Jess came in one day. She was really stressed. She was trying to find a book that her shitty professor had told her she needed for an exam the next week. She couldn’t find it, so I helped her out.” Sam’s eyes got all shiny as he recounted the story, grin as wide as it could be. God, the boy was in love. If anyone needed a picture of what love was, all they had to do was snap one of Sam when he was talking about Jess.

“And they fell madly in love,” Dean voiced aloud with a playful roll of his eyes and a mock clutch to his heart.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam repeated. “Anyway, she asked me to go with her to this Halloween party. I kinda hate that holiday but I went anyway.”

“Dressed as himself,” Dean laughed, still finding that titbit hilarious, “but Jess found that cute rather than lame.”

“And the rest is history.” Sam finalised it all off with a soppy grin that Dean would normally make fun of, but he didn’t quite have the heart to when it came to Jess and Sam.

“I think you make a very good couple,” Castiel told him fondly.

“Yeah,” Dean couldn’t help but admit, “they do.”

“What about you, Cas?” Sam glanced at Dean before focussing his attention to the other man. “You seeing anyone?”

“He’s only just got into town!” Dean barked, crossing his arms as he glared at Sam for giving Cas the third degree.

“He’s been here for a while now, Dean,” Sam looked at him, amused before looking at Cas knowingly, “and it doesn’t take that long to find someone,” he side eyed Dean, “it definitely doesn’t take you long anyway.”

Before Dean could tell him to go fuck himself, Castiel said, “No, I’m not dating anyone.”

“Interesting.” Sam remarked, though it wasn’t interesting at all to Dean, so why the fuck Sam thought it was, he had no clue. Sam was a fucking weirdo.

“Okay,” Dean nodded his head at Cas, wanting the topic of conversation to change, “now your turn, Cas. Tell us something about you.” He grinned, eager to hear one of his stories. The way Castiel told things was kind of mesmerising, capturing you in and making you want to listen until Castiel was too tired to talk anymore. The guy was definitely one of the most interesting people that Dean had met in his life.

Looking uncomfortable at the new found attention on him, Castiel shuffled in his seat. “What about?”

“With all that travelling, you’ve got to have some kind of interesting stories up your sleeve,” Sam offered, curious. Whilst Dean had heard most of the more far out stories from Cas’ travelling, Sam hadn’t. Predominantly, Cas was Dean’s friend; he hung around with him more often than the rest. Sure, Cas had fitted in with the rest of the group pretty damn well, but he didn’t see them quite so much. Though he had befriended Jo in particular, which had surprised Dean. Jo and Cas were total opposites in most things. She was loud and brash in the best way possible, while Cas was quiet and collected. But they’d hit it off almost instantly. Another was Jess, though that was less of a surprise. They were both animal lovers and as soon as Jess had offered to show Cas all the animals they had in their care at the hospital, Cas was all hers.

“There wasn’t much to see,” Castiel hunched his shoulders at Sam’s words, “just a lot of motels where you think there’s a high chance that you’re going to get robbed, stabbed, or worse. And diners with bad food. And,” Cas’ nose crinkled as he thought back, “strangely a lot of corn fields.”

“There’s got to be a lot of them so there’s enough fields for aliens to land in,” Dean joked. At Cas’ confused and far from bemused expression, Dean rolled his eyes. “Never mind.”

“Where are you originally from?” Sam asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked. And you don’t really have a thick accent.”

Castiel opened his mouth and shut it, hesitating for a moment before seemingly deciding on something. “Pontiac, Illinois.”

“Wow, you’ve travelled around a lot then,” Sam whistled, nudging Dean, “travelled more than us anyway.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean shrugged, “I don’t mind sticking in one place.” He knew Sam felt the total opposite in that respect. Sam wanted to explore, eager eyes on any new place he went to. When he was a kid, he’d had a map where he’d pinned the places he wanted to go to. Once he’d finished, the whole damn map had been pinned. Meanwhile, Dean was comfortable sticking in the town he’d been brought up in, happy to stay in the place he knew. He’d used to have the travelling bug a long time ago, but it had withered away like most things.

“Did you travel around when you were young as well?” Sam asked, interested now.

“I don’t –“ Cas shook his head, his eyes slowly but surely starting to scream out to Dean that he wanted the subject to be dropped. Sam didn’t know Cas like Dean did, he couldn’t see what Cas was silently sawing. But Dean could. He could see the ‘help me’ expression that was scrawled over Cas’ features.

“Well, you didn’t.” Dean tried to sway the focus back onto him and Sam, really not wanting Cas to feel uncomfortable. “And we managed to be okay in the end.” Dean half joked.

“Maybe Cas was a bit more cultured than us,” Sam rolled his eyes, “it’s obvious that he’s seen more of the world. I was just wondering whether he’d caught the travelling bug when he was a kid, that’s all. I know some people who travel when they’re kids end up hating it.” He said. “Like Jess,” he explained to Castiel, “her dad was in the army. They had to travel around for it when she was young. She hated it, going from one place to the other. She prefers sticking to one place now.”

Cas forced a smile and Sam still didn’t seem to realise the problems he was causing. He was just trying to make a nice conversation, he clearly wasn’t trying to pry or upset Cas. To be honest though, Dean couldn’t understand how Sam couldn’t see how tense Castiel was getting. It was obvious to Dean, as clear as fucking day. Apparently Dean knew more about Cas’ expressions than he’d originally thought if he could notice them over Sam, who was the one out of them that was always the ‘I feel your pain’ kind of guy.

“But maybe you’re different, Cas. Did you travel around when you were a kid like Jess did?” Sam continued.

At that, Castiel’s voice rose, close to a frightening yell, far louder than Dean had ever heard Cas speak. “ _No_ ,” he told Sam firmly. And then his eyes were widening in panic as he realised what he’d done; reacting in that way over a simple question wasn’t exactly ‘proper’, Dean supposed.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel wound his hands together nervously, looking close to standing up and just leaving. “I just – I don’t want to talk about it. Please.”

Finally, Sam noticed his mistake, face falling as he realised that he’d poked somewhere that definitely didn’t want to be poked. “That’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he said, back to his usual friendly way of trying to make everything better. Sam always tried his hardest to get the people around him to smile. Even if Sam didn’t succeed, he sure at least tried.

No matter Sam’s attempts, Castiel already seemed intent on bullying himself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…“ he murmured, gaze fixed to the floor.

“Cas, it’s okay,” Dean interrupted, feet itching to get up so he could sit next to Cas and at least give his shoulder a squeeze.

Castiel was apparently having none of it. “Perhaps I should leave,” he mumbled to himself.

“Cas,” Sam shook his head, horrified that he’d inadvertently caused this to happen, “it’s okay, honestly.

“Hey, we all have shit we don’t like to talk about,” Dean said, knowing far too well. At Dean’s words, Dean managed to catch Cas’ gaze. Faltering slightly, Castiel’s gaze dropped before looking back at Dean, almost as if he was waiting for reassurance from Dean’s behalf. Dean had no clue what could have happened to make him freeze up every time there was a mention of his childhood; to an extent, Dean was kind of terrified to find out what it was. The thought of something awful happening to Cas, no least when he was just a kid, made Dean want to throw up.

“It’s fine.” Dean grinned, internally sighing in relief when Castiel gave him a small, hesitant smile back. “Now,” Dean leant back on the seat, “how about I tell about the time that Sammy broke his wrist because he thought he was a superhero and jumped off the roof of a shed.” He cocked his head at Sam, already laughing at the idiocy of his little brother.

Indignant, Sam retorted, “Only because I was copying you!”

 

* * *

 

Another hour into the conversation, Jess arrived. At the commotion in her living room, she smiled, even though she’d been at work all day and had an exam. Jess was very much a people person, hating the quiet. She glanced around the room, obviously surprised at the extra few guests that she wasn’t expecting. She looked at Sam, frowning for a second. Dean knew what Jess would be able to note by looking at Sam, while he was clearly feeling better, laughing at a story that Cas was telling of a different customer at the florist, he looked tired.

“Hey you guys,” Jess said to announce herself.

“Hey,” Sam gave her a grin when he noticed her arrival, “how was the exam?”

“Shitty,” Jess complained, throwing her coat to the side, not even bothering to see whether it made her intended destination or not, “but I think I managed to do okay.” She moved to the back of the couch, kissing Sam upside down as he tipped his head back to meet her lips. “Looks like you three have been enjoying yourselves without me,” she said, perking up somewhat. Even if Jess was having a fucked up day, she’d jump out of it quickly. Always one to look at the positive. But she didn’t bury her head in the sand either.

“We were just having a chat,” Dean answered for the three of them. “Cas and I were gonna go furniture shopping but we came by here instead.” He made sure there was a certain tone in his voice that would help Jess read between the lines. Catching Dean’s eye, she questioned him silently. With the downward pull of Dean’s lips, Jess understood what had happened. She knew that, for some reason unbeknownst to her, Sam had had a bad day.

“Well, I’m sad I missed the party then,” she replied airily, playing with Sam’s hair as she spoke.

“Anyway,” Dean stood up, “we should probably head off. Let Sam treat you after that exam of yours.” Dean grinned, nudging Sam’s shoulder. The meanings behind his words were obvious, he was going to leave Sam and Jess so they could talk about what had happened.

“Yes.” Castiel agreed with a nod, cottoning on to what Dean meant.

Castiel thanked Sam for the tea and welcoming him into his home, apologising for another unnecessary time for the way he’d closed up when his childhood had been brought up. Sam waved it off with a comforting smile, already forgotten in his eyes. Heading to the door, Cas grabbed his coat along the way. He waited for Dean, expectant, but altogether patient.

Feeling tired all of a sudden, Dean hugged his little brother and Jess, mumbling a goodbye, with a promised whisper from the latter that she’d talk to Sam and make sure he was okay. Grateful for Jess and everything she was, he gave her an extra squeeze before following Cas out the door.

Their walk down the stairs was contentedly silent, their arms hitting against each other every now and then as they paced. It wasn’t annoying though, more comforting than anything. Clearly, they were both stuck in their heads. Dean was worrying about Sam and perhaps Cas was doing the same. Or he was still thinking about the conversation that he’d shut down. And if Dean was being honest about himself, it wasn’t just Sam that he was worrying about now. Cas had taken a chunk of the worrying part of Dean’s brain, as well as slotted himself onto the list of people that Dean would throw himself in between them and a bullet. Funny how quick Cas had gotten himself into that spot.

Ultimately, Dean could only blame his worry for Sam and Cas and the sheer tiredness he felt as the reasons as to why it took him ten minutes into the journey to realise what was happening. They were in a car. _Cas’_ car. And Cas was driving. Just like he’d done on the way to Sam’s apartment.

“ _Shit_.”

Dean sat up on his seat, alarmed at the turn of events. That never happened. That did _not_ happen. He never let anyone other than very few drive him. He didn’t just let anyone do it, certainly not something he’d only known for nearly two months. Thing like that didn’t happen. Yet, somehow, it had.

“What?” Castiel glanced over at him whilst still trying to watch the road. “What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding just as concerned as Dean felt. The guy was on edge, looking like he was ready to stop the car because of Dean’s freak out. And maybe, just maybe, that was why Dean had trusted him by getting in the car with him in the first place.

Only once had Dean strayed from his trusted list of people. _Once._ And that had been because he’d had a phone call to say Sam had OD’ed and was in hospital. The news had terrified him so much that he’d forgotten everything else, ran out the door and grabbed the nearest cab he could find. Even then it had been the culmination of Sam being hurt and the cab ride that had caused him to have a panic attack in the backseat.

Sure, today Dean had been stressed out when he’d heard Sam’s nervous tone over the phone. But if he’d been with someone else, he wouldn’t have gone straight into their car without thinking. Not like he had with Cas. He hadn’t even _thought_ about it. Hadn’t even _noticed_ until now.

“Dean?” Castiel prompted, now sounding even more troubled at Dean’s outburst.

At his name being called, Dean looked at Cas, whose hands were carefully placed on the wheel as he glanced from Dean to the front window, lips pursed into a frown.

Nothing had happened by getting into a car with Cas. No one had died. Cas was still breathing. And so was Dean, though he was struggling to do that right now as he realised his predicament.

They were both okay.

“It’s –“ Dean felt his heart start to slow as he watched Cas more and more, his careful driving and the concerned frown on his lips, “it’s nothing.” Dean finished with, shoulders falling as he sunk back on his chair. “It’s nothing.” He repeated, unsure of whether he was telling Cas or himself.

Even though Dean felt positively terrified, fists clenched together on his thighs as he watched the traffic sail by them, he was much more relaxed than he thought he would feel. None of it made any fucking sense, that he’d get into a car with Cas. _Twice._ Just like that, without a thought in the world. Yet, it made an awful lot of sense at the exact same time. Funny that.

“I didn’t ask, do you want me to take you to where we met up or take you home?” Castiel asked.

“Home,” Dean told him quietly, realising that while Cas knew about the crash, he didn’t quite realise the true effects of it. Hell, the guy probably thought that Dean drove around in his own car.

“Okay,” Castiel replied, smiling supportively even though his eyes were tired.

By the time they’d parked in the parking lot at Dean’s apartment, Dean’s breathing was almost back to normal. At least, he didn’t feel like he was going to hyperventilate or vomit. That was something, Dean supposed.

Castiel parked the car and looked at Dean expectantly.

Not quite ready to say goodbye to Cas just yet, Dean offered. “You want to come in and have some tea? I have some leftovers in the fridge too. Some pie?”

A small smile lit up Cas’ features, making him look somewhat less tired. “Okay.”

“Come on then.” Dean, even after such a shitty day, found himself grinning as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

Within minutes, they were safely tucked up in Dean’s apartment. As they shucked off their jackets, Dean apologised, “Sorry about today, how we didn’t get to go furniture shopping.” He smiled weakly. All Cas had initially planned was to go furniture shopping. In the end, that had gone out the window and he’d babysat an ex-drug addict. Sure, that wasn’t how Dean saw it with Sam and most likely – no, _definitely_ – Cas didn’t see it that way either. But Dean was so exhausted, he wasn’t thinking straight.

Being the trooper that he was, Cas half shrugged as he passed his coat to Dean. “It’s fine.”

“It’s just,” Dean sorted out their coats as he continued to explain, even though Cas didn’t seem to care for an explanation, “I couldn’t leave Sammy when he was like that. He’s family, y’know?”

The last explanation explained it all to Dean. Family was everything to him. That included is friends too. For some reason, those words didn’t help Cas out, who stiffened and mumbled, “No, I don’t know.”

The reaction caused Dean to pause. And it apparently surprised Castiel too, whose eyes widened when he realised that he’d said that aloud. Perhaps it was the toll of the day that had caught up to Cas, making him open up more than he usually did.

“You don’t have any family?” Dean asked, feeling his heart sink. The concept was more than fucking sad to Dean. It was downright, depressingly awful. Was Cas similar to Dean, having once had a family and then had it ripped away from him? Or did he not know what a mother’s hug felt like? Honestly, which one was worse?

Castiel watched Dean for a moment. Dean had a sneaking suspicion that he was deciding on whether to open up or not. Dean got it; it took a lot for himself to open up to people and if Cas’ life had some of the shittiness that Dean had had, it made sense that Castiel only chose a certain amount of people to talk about it to. Whatever he saw in Dean’s face apparently made the decision for Castiel, who sighed and spoke up.

“I don’t know,” Castiel said honestly with a shake of his head, though the movement didn’t hide the hurt in Cas’ eyes. The answer only confused Dean more, because it made no sense to him.

“What, you were adopted or something? In foster care?”

That could actually make sense. Castiel had always been somewhat of a loner as far as Dean could tell. Being brought up in foster care might actually explain some of his behaviour, why he never thought anyone would want to look out for him, why he was always wanting to please others. It could even explain why he’d never felt settled, going from one town to the other like he’d done when he was a kid. If it were the case, Dean couldn’t help but wonder why Cas had never mentioned it before. But then again, Cas was always going on about not wanting to be a burden, so would it even be a surprise if he’d never told Dean?

“No.” Castiel shook his head, shoulders sinking. “I wasn’t in foster care or adopted,” he laughed, though it was bitter, sounding completely wrong coming from those pink lips, “not that I know of anyway.”

“Then what?” Dean asked. Realising that Cas was getting upset, Dean softened his voice, placing a hand on Cas’ shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. “Cas?” If Cas wanted to shut the conversation down, Dean would back off, even though his curiosity had definitely reached a new high.

“I have retrograde amnesia,” Castiel explained quietly, though defiantly, as if he were waiting for someone to call him out on it, either to say he was lying or to tease him.

“Amnesia?” Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, because this was news to Dean. “Like,” he swallowed, “you’ve forgotten everything?”

What the hell? Didn’t that shit only ever happen in the movies? Dean had watched things like that all the time, how the main character woke up and didn’t have a clue and then they go through a journey with the viewer to find out who they really are. It normally involved guns and realising they were a mass murderer though. Not a guy who wore badger sweaters and excitedly made terrible jokes that you had to pretend to find hilarious to garner a proud smile from those chapped lips.

“Five years ago,” Castiel’s body deflated, voice quiet as he recounted, “I woke up in a hospital. I couldn’t remember anything. Not why I was there or what happened. The only thing I could remember was my first name, but even that, I’m unsure of whether I just made it up on the spot.” He smiled, a sad thing that made Dean want to hug it away.

Like the story he was telling made him feel physically weighted, Castiel moved a few steps to sit on the edge of the arm rest of the couch. Transfixed with the story that was being told, Dean stayed stuck to the spot, standing at the shut front door as he desperately hoped that this was some nasty practical joke. But the look on Cas’ face, the ghosts on his features, told Dean that it was anything but.

“A woman was sitting next to me.” Castiel continued. “I didn’t recognise her. She explained to me what had happened. She was jogging by the lake nearby to where she lived. She found me there. I was at the shoreline,” his adams apple bobbed, “about to be taken by the water again. I was –“ he tilted his head in an almost shameful way as he admitted, “naked. And unresponsive. She called 911 of course.

“And then when I woke up and said I didn’t remember anything, the doctors explained to me that I had retrograde amnesia. It’s very rare. It’s not often that someone forgets everything. With concussion and injuries alike, people can forget some chunks, but it’s rare for it to be everything.” Castiel smiled sadly, making Dean realise he was getting a lump in his throat. Not once, not _ever,_ did Dean consider something like that.

“I was fine other than my body feeling like it had been dragged through a stream, which, of course, it had been. The doctors couldn’t pinpoint anything that specifically could have caused the amnesia. There were no signs of distress on my body, other than bruises and scratches that would have occurred by being in the water.” Castiel paused. It was almost like he was reading the words form a piece of paper, voice monotone, almost like it made it easier for him to relieve that time of his life. Perhaps that should have told Dean to prepare himself for the next words to come out of Cas’ mouth, but he supposed nothing would prepare him for –

“The doctors,“ Castiel licked his lips, voice small and so very _tired,_ “they came to the conclusion that I’d attempted to kill myself.”

“ _Cas,”_ Dean choked.

Just the thought of Cas, of the man sitting in front of him, even _considering_ the idea of _that_ made Dean want to vomit, cry, and then grab Cas and never fucking let go.

Castiel didn’t acknowledge that Dean had spoken; he folded his arms around his body, like he was trying to comfort himself as he explained the rest. “I couldn’t remember anything to tell them whether they were right or wrong.” He shook his head, a forced, but bitter smile appearing before quickly leaving him. “While I recovered, they put my picture in the paper, even in the local news. No one came forward whilst I was in the hospital. I was in no missing people files. No one was looking for me.” He told Dean; he was obviously trying to keep his voice devoid of any emotion but Dean could hear where it came through, the way his breath hitched, his words broken.

“The woman who found me, Daphne,” Cas smiled as he said her name, a small one that somehow fought through the frown, “she paid for all my hospital expenses, because if she hadn’t, I would have been turned away. But I could only stay in the hospital for so long. She offered for me to stay with her until I got on my feet, but I refused. I didn’t want to cause her even more trouble.” Castiel explained with a shake of his head. “All in all, I was just as much a stranger to her as she was to me. It wouldn’t have been fair to force her to take care of me.”

He looked up at Dean for a moment, eyes saying so much that Dean almost had to look away. “I was homeless for five months. It wasn’t…” Castiel flinched, “...A pleasant experience.

“In the movies, they always brush amnesia aside, especially when it comes to retrograde amnesia. They never show what truly happens.” Castiel smiled dryly. “When you wake up with amnesia, there’s no one there to say who you are, no identification to help you. Things aren’t easy like they show in the movies. You don’t have any ID to prove who you are and the government won’t allow you new forms of identification because, according to them, you’ve already been given them at some point. So you can’t get a job and even if you managed that, a place that gave you cash in hand, you can’t secure a home to live in. You can’t do anything.” His shoulders drooped as he looked down at his hands, hands that were still engrained with soil, even caked under his fingernails in some places where Cas couldn’t reach to scrape it out.

“For a time, I considered making up identification documents. I knew it could get me into jail, but I thought that if the police caught me, at least they would have to give me some kind of identity to put me in prison.” He huffed tiredly.

“What happened?” Dean asked, keeping his voice low, worried that he would break the atmosphere and Cas would shut down. Dean knew that if Cas stopped now, he probably would never bring it up again.

“Five months in, Daphne found me. Apparently she’d heard some people were talking about a homeless man in the town over and she put two and two together. You see, there weren’t many homeless people there. It’s one of those towns where everyone is well off and when people talked about a new homeless man who looked familiar to the person that she had once found, she figured out it was me. When she found me, I explained to her my predicament and she told me, by some luck on my behalf, that her close friends’ father was the mayor. And he knew the right people you would have to go to to somehow lobby the government into getting me new forms of identification. So, against my original plans, I moved into her house and stayed with her whilst we tried to get what I needed.”

Even with the terrible undertones of the store, Dean couldn’t help but smile at Daphne’s actions. The kindness didn’t surprise Dean, Cas had that way with people, making it so everyone who got to know him wanted to be his friend and help him out. At least, it had that effect on people in this town anyway. But still, it wasn’t often that someone would go to the ends of the earth for some homeless guy on the street. If she hadn’t, god knows what would have happened to Cas. He could have been in jail, being exploited, or worse, he could be a John Doe in a body bag. Shuddering, Dean took that thought out of his mind before the image could form.

“I managed to get in the local paper and then a national paper too. And then there was a petition. All sorts of things. After being ignored for so many months while I lived on the street, it was odd to have so many people trying to support me. It was from one extreme to the other. It took another six months for the pressuring to work and for me to finally be recognised as an actual person. I finally got a new ID. Then I could work. And then about a month before I got my identification, I realised that –“ Castiel sighed, “I realised that Daphne had romantic feelings towards me.”

Dean frowned, ready to fly off the handle at the idea that someone would bring a homeless, lost guy into their home in the hopes that one day they would have their wicked way with them. Screw what he’d been saying earlier, Daphne was the fucking _worst._ The anger must have been expressed all over his face because Castiel shook his head, quickly dispelling the worry.

“I think I might have been naïve. When I look back, it was obvious. But I didn’t see it until she told me outright. She was a good person and would still have done the same things for me if she hadn’t had those feelings.” He explained with a smile, like he could tell that Dean was yet again being overprotective. “But,” Castiel went back to frowning unhappily, “I just didn’t feel like it was fair on her or me for me to stay there. I kept in touch with her though, I still do. She got married two years ago. And she’s about to have a baby.” He smiled, clearly pleased with the news.

“But at the time, I just thought I should leave. So as soon as I received my ID, I left. I started moving around, not sticking to one town for longer than a few months before moving to the next. I worked odd jobs to afford to keep moving, to keep eating. Sometimes, I lived from my car, which was easy compared to when I lived on the street. And then I moved here,” Castiel’s gaze found Dean’s, “and for once, the town actually felt like home.”

The story was nothing like Dean could have imagined. He’d thought that maybe something traumatic had happened to Cas when he’d been just a kid, and that’s why he’d always had a butthurt expression on his face whenever Dean asked him questions about his childhood. But Dean had never thought this. That Cas didn’t close up to the questions because he didn’t want to talk about it, but actually because he simply didn’t know the answer to them.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. “And you still don’t remember anything?” he asked quietly.

A terribly sad smile featured from Castiel’s face, enough to make Dean think he was one step from crying. “Not one thing.”

There were no words to somehow console Castiel, to make any of this better. Just like how there were never any words to help Dean through the loss of his parents. Simply, Dean stepped forward, gave one last glance to Cas’ pained features, before enveloping him into a hug. Slowly and hesitatingly, Castiel’s own arms came up to wrap around Dean’s waist, clutching onto the fabric of his plaid shirt. After another second, Castiel buried his face in Dean’s neck, body melting. The way he was reacting made Dean wonder whether this was Cas’ first hug in a very long time.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean murmured, rubbing Cas’ back, between his shoulder blades as soothingly as possible.

“Thank you,” Castiel replied thickly.

Continuing to rub Cas’ spine, Dean promised, “if I could make it so you remembered, I would.”

The words did the opposite of comforting Castiel like Dean intended, who leant back out of Dean’s embrace to shake his head confusedly. “I don’t want to remember,” he said firmly.

“What? But you’re missing so much of your life.” Dean scrunched up his forehead, arms dropping from Cas’ shoulders to instead rest at his own sides. Cas’ arms stayed where they were around Dean’s waist, though Dean was too busy trying to follow the conversation to notice.

“You don’t understand,” Castiel blew out a tired puff of air, “no one is looking for me, Dean. _No one_.” He reiterated. “The police looked on every missing person’s server they had. No one matching my description was reported missing. My photo wasn’t out there. No one was looking for me.” His fingers dug into Dean’s shirt, nails biting into Dean’s skin painfully.

“What sort of a person does that make me?” he asked, voice small and absolutely crestfallen.

And there it was. All this time, Castiel thought that no one had been searching for him because he didn’t deserved to be looked for. It was why Castiel probably didn’t like to talk about it, assuming that the person he told would come to the same conclusions. Perhaps that was why Cas also didn’t like to unwind his problems onto other people either. He simple thought he didn’t deserve to be cared for.

“That doesn’t make you a bad person. It means you were someone who had a shitty family and shitty friends,” Dean told him, not even one wavering thought in his mind that assumed otherwise. If no one had looked for Castiel, had missed him, that was on them, not Cas. It meant Cas had had no one who had known him. Because seriously, if he upped and left tomorrow, he’d have a multitude of people reporting him missing. He deserved to be fucking cared for.

Blowing out hot hair, Castiel took his arms from Dean’s waist so he could take a step away from Dean, almost like he was disgusted with himself. “You don’t know that,” he insisted.

“No, I don’t,” Dean admitted, “but I know _you._ I don’t know how amnesia works, whether when you wake up in hospital, you’re the same person you were before the amnesia. But if that’s the way it works, there is no fucking way that you would have done anything bad to make no one look for you. And if amnesia makes it so you’re a different person when you wake up, reborn or whatever the fuck you want to call it, then whatever the old you did, if they did something bad, doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re a good guy Cas, the best I know.” At Cas’ huff of indignation, Dean bent his head down to force eye contact. “ _Seriously._ Don’t you ever think differently, okay?”

Searchingly, Castiel watched Dean, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop and Dean would instead tell him that he thought he was some horrible person who deserved to be lost and alone. When that didn’t happen, Castiel’s eyes flickered shut, body deflating as his fists uncurled.

“Okay,” he nodded to himself, hunching his shoulders tightly, “can we stop talking about this now?”

It was over, Dean realised. Castiel had built up the courage to talk about it, but now it was done. He probably wouldn’t talk about it again, Dean thought. It would be unspoken, just like Dean’s parents were. And if Cas wanted to do it that way, who was Dean to tell him to deal with it any differently.

“Course we can. Let’s go have some of that pie I promised.” Dean smiled soothingly, bringing it up his hand to pat Cas on the cheek in a comforting manner, the way teammates did to rally each other when they were off to play a big game. Somehow, Dean’s attempt turned into him resting his hand on Cas’ jaw as he rubbed his thumb across Cas’ skin once, twice, three times before he pulled his hand back.

At Dean’s touch, Castiel relaxed. Like Dean had pressed the off switch.

“Okay,” Castiel agreed quietly, catching Dean’s wrist before Dean’s arm was too far away to grab. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

Blue eyes wide and full of gratitude that Dean was nearly blinded, Castiel simply said, “Thank you.”

Smiling sadly, Dean twisted their joint arms so he could squeeze Cas’ wrist in return. “You’re welcome, buddy.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Surprise!” Charlie cheered as soon as Dean opened his front door. “We’re here to kidnap you,” she announced excitedly, hopping from one foot to the other. Already, Dean braced himself for whatever Charlie had up her sleeve.

Dean opened his mouth and then promptly shut it, looking at his two unannounced visitors. Charlie was beaming, cheeks flushed as she continued to do a weird jig on her feet. Meanwhile, Castiel was another story. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but Dean’s doorstep, oddly miserable which was near impossible to be in Charlie’s presence. Cas’ hair was messier than usual, Dean realised (someone had _definitely_ been running their hands through it this time) and his face looked different too. Dean couldn’t quite decipher what was different because Cas was tipping his face down to cause shadows, but there was definitely something weird. Even his clothes were more fitted than usual, a slim fit shirt and tighter jeans. That wasn’t Cas’ usual sense of style. Where the hell were his cat sweaters?

“Uh,” Dean decided to play along, “well, you don’t exactly look like the kidnappers on the news but hey, the news gets it wrong all the time.”

“We’re off on an adventure and we’re taking you with us,” Charlie continued.

Dean chuckled at her brazenness. “Oh,” he folded his arms, “you are, aren’t you?”

Charlie nodded, pointing at the still slightly sullen Castiel. “Cas didn’t want to come with just me. He’s worried about being a third wheel or something.”

At that comment, Castiel looked at Charlie like she was being strange. “Third wheel? Why would that be a bad thing?”

Dean pulled a face, already lost in the conversation and they’d only been on his doorstep for less than a minute. “Why would that be a _good_ thing?”

Castiel explained, thoroughly confused, “Because it adds extra grip and greater stability.”

Charlie rolled her eyes affectionately. “Anyway,” she continued, “he said he wouldn’t go if you didn’t so our fun night out is depending on you my amigo. And you can’t make Cas go home when I’ve helped dress him so he looks like a hot potato. Doesn’t he look good?” She asked Dean, expecting an answer, like Dean should know all about the latest fashions or something. What the hell did it matter if Dean thought Cas looked good or not? Cas wouldn’t care about his opinion. And yet –

“Did you put eyeliner on him?” Dean leant forward with a squint, finally realising what was different about Cas’ face. It was subtle, but entirely noticeable to Dean after being around Cas for so long. There was a smudge of black eyeliner lined around his eyes, not enough to make him look like a pirate, but enough to make Cas’ eyes look even more of a startling blue.

“What?” Charlie defended her choice with a pout. “It makes his eyes pop.”

“He’s got blue eyes, they already _pop,_ ” Dean quoted with a roll of his eyes.

Castiel’s gaze stayed rooted to the floor as he mumbled, “I told you it was stupid.”

“Hey, no,” Dean backtracked, instantly feeling like an asshole, “I’m not saying you look dumb or anything. Just saying that you don’t need any of that shit. You look fine with your normal dumb sweaters, okay?” He reached over and squeezed Cas’ shoulder, to which Castiel looked up at him for a moment, surprised at the gesture for some reason.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” Charlie grinned. “Now,” she gestured to herself, her t-shirt with a Hermione Granger quote and her skinny jeans that met floral Dr Martens, “aren’t you going to say anything nice about me?”

Dean pretended to consider it, before waving her off with a grin. “Nah.”

Charlie gave him a death glare that would rival Sam’s and then she was back to pouting. “So, are you coming or what?”

Dean stared suspiciously at Charlie, who was most definitely the ring leader. Which meant they could have been going fucking _anywhere._

“Where are you even going?”

“Town,” Charlie shrugged, “well, the town over.”

“Why the hell are you going there?” Dean snorted. Sure, the night life in their town wasn’t exactly the greatest, but it was Dean’s kind. He could head into a dive bar, grab a drink and maybe get laid. What more did he need? He definitely wouldn’t bother trekking over to the town over, a good hour and a half away in good traffic just for a night out.

“Because my girlfriend lives there,” Charlie pointed out.

“You couldn’t find a girlfriend in this town?” Dean complained.

“Dean, everyone is either in the closet, is already dating someone, or they’re not my type. You ever tried being a lesbian in a small town like this?” She folded her arms challengingly, blowing her bangs from her face.

“Okay, fair enough,” Dean said after a moment of thought. He’d never realised how difficult that probably was. Charlie was right, there weren’t exactly a multitude of gay people running around town. Dean had never hit on a girl for her to turn around and tell him that she was a lesbian. Dean didn’t doubt they existed, but none of them were exactly shouting it from the rooftops.

Dean suddenly realised another thing Charlie had said, causing him to smile. “Girlfriend status, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, pleased that Charlie had managed to score. From what he’d heard, the Dorothy chick was a cool lady who was treating Charlie right, someone that Dean had taken under his wing as soon as they’d had their _Star Trek_ marathon with a slightly befuddled Cas.

“Yep.” Charlie nodded proudly. “Are you surprised, what with my good looks and amazing personality?” She flipped her hair, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically. “Oh, and another reason we’re going to that town,” she grinned, enough for Dean to brace himself for whatever bad idea that was about to come out of her mouth, “there’s no gay bars in this town.”

Dean spluttered. “A gay bar?” He stared levelly at Cas, who still wasn’t looking at him. Failing interaction with him, Dean stared at Charlie in confusion. “You’re inviting me to a gay bar?” He asked in his best ‘ _what the fuck are you talking about’_ voice.

“Yep,” Charlie nodded, beaming from ear to ear, “come on, it’ll be fun.”

“But, I’m not gay.” Dean crossed his arms. “Wouldn’t me going there be like pissing on someone else’s territory?”

As soon as Dean started to speak, Charlie’s face fell somewhat dramatically as she turned her gaze to Cas, forcing eye contact. Castiel stared meaningfully back, a clear conversation between the two of them that Dean was obviously not part of. Okay, forget Cas being the third wheel. Dean was feeling exactly like one right now.

By the time he had finished speaking, Charlie and Cas’ silent conversation was over. Charlie turned to him and shrugged with a broad smile; whatever had been bothering her was suddenly put to the side. “Well, we’re gay,” she pointed at herself and Cas enthusiastically, “and we’re inviting you. So it’s fine.”

“You don’t have to –“ Cas started to say earnestly, still looking incredibly uncomfortable about the entire fucking thing. Honestly, Dean was wondering how Charlie had managed to dress him up and drag him to Dean’s apartment without Cas locking himself in his house. The guy looked miserable. But then again, Cas was a people pleaser.

“Please Dean,” Charlie pleaded, “I don’t want to go there by myself. It’ll be a nightmare.”

Dean looked at Cas, who was looking anywhere but him. And then at Charlie who was making a run for Sam’s money at the best puppy face.

This wasn’t Dean’s scene. He’d never set foot in a gay bar before, because there had never been reason to. He wasn’t gay, so what was the point of him going there? He didn’t even know what a fucking gay bar was _like._ Was it like the movies or something completely different? Just a normal bar that happened to have guys who liked dick and girls who liked clits? Dean had no fucking clue. And he wasn’t sure he really cared to find out. But Charlie was pouting and Castiel was shuffling on his feet. Perhaps, just maybe, Dean was a little tempted to find out.

“Do you actually want to go?” Dean asked, directing the question to Cas.

Castiel half shrugged, though it looked an awful lot like he was just trying to make himself as small to Dean’s gaze as possible. “It might be enjoyable,” he muttered. And that wasn’t a yes or a no, but Dean figured that if Cas had been okay with getting eyeliner and tight clothes, some part of him wanted to go out for the night at least.

Dean rolled his eyes, decision made. “Fine.” He went back into his apartment to grab his phone, wallet, and keys. Half way back to the door, he paused, only just realising something that could ruin Charlie’s exciting night out.

“You’re driving, right?” he asked Cas coolly, trying not to make a big deal out of it. He’d done a good job so far of hiding his failures, he didn’t want a night to a gay bar to expose his dumb problems.

Finally, Castiel looked at him. “Yes. Charlie’s staying the night with Dorothy and she’s going to drive her back.” He didn’t look confused as to why Dean was asking, merely explaining as he tugged on the sleeve of his shirt.

“More like staying the weekend.” Charlie winked exaggeratedly. Realising what Dean had said, she pulled a face, clearly put out. “Hey, you think I’m a bad driver or something?” she asked Dean.

Dean had been in the situation so many damn times, trying to explain his aversion to getting into random people’s cars. Each time, he still never knew what the fuck to say. He should write a fucking script for it or something.

Thankfully, Cas was there to unknowingly save him, opting to make it light hearted and put the attention onto Charlie. “Charlie, you don’t drive,” he reminded her.

“But if I did, I would be the best.” She play slapped Cas on the shoulder. “Besides, men get into more accidents than women, so there.”

Dean winced at the topic of conversation, noting that Cas looked just as uncomfortable. Oddly, Charlie looked a little crestfallen with the topic too, like she’d only just realised what the hell they were talking about. Dean figured that there might be a story behind that, but now wasn’t the time to ask. It would ruin the entire fucking night. Maybe Charlie had dealt with something similar to Dean, but neither of them knew about the other’s problems because neither had mentioned it. Dean was wounded, so in a way it made sense for him to somehow befriend people who were equally as stung as himself.

“Come on,” Dean decided aloud, ready to quash the conversation and just get on with the night.

“Yes sir.” Charlie mock saluted, grinning widely, an almost permanent expression on her facial features that might as well have been made out of sunshine.

“Did you invite anyone else?” Dean asked as he locked the door, pocketing the key.

“Nope,” Charlie shook her head, “but if you can think of anyone who’d want to come, you should invite them.”

Quietly, Dean considered it. But he didn’t exactly want to grab all of his friends with the explanation they were travelling to the town over just to visit a gay bar. It wasn’t his usual hang out spot for obvious reasons. He knew some of his friends would be up for it, probably all of them to be honest, but he also knew that most of them would be too busy and wouldn’t want to go on one of Charlie’s adventures so last minute. They all had lives. Much more than Dean did anyway.

“Nah,” Dean shrugged, “we’ll just keep it to us four. Don’t want anyone else coming to cramp your style, Charlie,” he teased, wrapping one arm around Cas’ shoulders, the other around Charlie. “Now, let’s go. Teach me your gay ways,” he joked.

 

* * *

 

The gay bar was everything that Dean had expected, but not at the same exact time. Of course, it was filled to the brim with gay people, guys sucking each other’s faces in the corner, girls dancing together with roaming hands as they giggled and whispered to each other. And there was a hell of a lot of rainbows and leather. The music was loud, blaring into Dean’s eardrums and making his heart thump to the beat. It made him feel way too old for this, even though he wasn’t even fucking thirty yet.

What he wasn’t expecting was to not feel out of place. It didn’t feel weird to be in a bar that was so not _him._ No one looked at him like he didn’t belong and it didn’t feel odd to be in a place where all sorts of shit was happening right in front of his eyes. Sure seeing girls kissing girls and guys kissing guys wasn’t the usual sight for him, but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. It was just like being anywhere else. Weirdly enough, it felt kind of relaxing that he wouldn’t be expected to go find a girl and hook up with her.

“Dorothy will be here soon,” Charlie announced, having to speak up to be heard over the music and Dean’s thoughts. They’d managed to find a booth in the far corner away from the speakers, but it was still impossibly loud. Dean knew he was going to get a headache by the end of the night. Castiel didn’t seem to be enjoying the loud music either, though he wasn’t outwardly complaining, picking at the seam of his shirt as he squashed up close to Dean because of the small amount of room. That, or Cas felt awkward and was sticking close to Dean for some kind of comfort. Dean could understand that; this didn’t seem like Cas’ usual scene.

“I’m excited to see her again,” Castiel told Charlie, clearly being truthful. Dean was eager to meet her too. He’d head a lot about Charlie’s new girlfriend, Charlie was always gushing about her in some way or the other. Dean wanted to make sure that she was actually as good as Charlie was making her out to be. Because if Dean knew anything, he knew that Charlie deserved the _best._

Charlie’s face suddenly brightened; without even looking around, Dean knew that Dorothy had arrived. She came into view quite quickly, pushing through the throngs of people on the dance floor. She let Charlie embrace her even though she looked a little uncomfortable with PDA, but she initiated the kiss, a small, secretive smile on her face when their lips separated.

“Hey.” Dean half waved.

“Hey,” Dorothy finally noticed him and Castiel, “nice to meet you. And nice to see you again, Cas. You look a little different today.” She frowned, trying to place what was different.

“Blame your girlfriend.” Dean nodded at Charlie, who only grinned and tugged Dorothy down by the hand to sit next to her on the other side of the booth.

Dorothy was slightly older than Charlie, but not too old that Dean would worry about her being a creep. Her brown hair was pushed back into a plain ponytail, away from her unmade up face. A white shirt and tanned jacket covered her middle with plain trousers and boots that Dean knew would leave a lasting mark if she were to kick you. In fact, she looked like she _would_ kick you if you caused any shit. There was nothing dainty about her; the way she looked uncomfortable but quietly pleased at Charlie holding her hand, the little make-up on her face, if at all, and the way her nails were cut short and unpainted, like she did something manual with them. All in all, Dean kinda liked her, especially with the way Charlie was giving her heart eyes. That was the most important part.

“Let’s get this party started then, shall we?” Dorothy raised an eyebrow expectantly.

And so they did.

The bar was loud, cramped, and anywhere but Dean would want to go to. He couldn’t help but find himself enjoying it though as he sat with his friends and talked about random shit. The more he talked with Dorothy, the more he found her a suitable girlfriend for Charlie. It was just the way they went together, completely different to one another, yet seamlessly reacting together without any awkwardness. It was just fucking endearing to see Charlie holding onto Dorothy’s hand so tightly, the way Dorothy would look at Charlie when she wasn’t looking back, like she hung the fucking moon. The whole thing would have been puke inducing to watch if Dean wasn’t so damn happy for them.

Even Castiel seemed to be enjoying himself as well. It clearly wasn’t his kind of night; Dean knew him well enough to know that Cas would have preferred to have stayed home with his cat on his lap, tea in one hand, whilst watching some shitty documentary about bees or some shit. But the longer the night went on for, the more he relaxed and the more he smiled. And it was good to see Cas like that when Dean had seen him break down into tears not so long ago when he’d recalled his life to Dean. It was good to see him smile, especially the rare gummy ones that lit up his entire face and wrinkled the bridge of his nose.

Dean was making his way back to his group of friends after using the bathroom (which had been an experience, there’d been at least two couples having sex in some of the stalls which… Yeah, Dean didn’t want to invade or hear more than necessary thank you very fucking much), when he realised Castiel wasn’t at the booth. They’d both left at the same time, Dean to the bathroom, Cas to the bar in attempts to grab some drinks. And then Charlie and Dorothy had opted to stay in the booth and keep a hold of it whilst they made out.

“Where’s Cas?” Dean asked as soon as he got to the two lovebirds.

“Still getting drinks?” Dorothy shrugged, cheeks pink from drinking and kissing. Charlie nodded in agreement, giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Still?” Dean exclaimed, wondering how long it fucking took to get a drink in this kind of place. Trust him to leave for five minutes and Charlie and Dorothy to fucking _lose_ Cas in the time it took to pee. “He’s taking too long.” He frowned, leaning on the chair to heighten himself so he could look over at the bar. Easily, he found Castiel, who had the drinks ready right in front of him. So it wasn’t getting drinks that was causing a bother, it was some random ass guy whose hand was on Cas’ arm, halting him from moving. Now Dean wasn’t an expert in body language, but he could see that Cas was trying to walk away, his face set into a scowl. Instantly, Dean’s blood was boiling.

“Some shithead is hitting on him,” Dean told Charlie and Dorothy, “and Cas is trying to get away from the fucking creep.” His hands curled into fists as he watched the guy lean in to whisper something in Cas’ ear, who shrugged him off with a glare.

“Oh shit,” Charlie cursed, a rarity for her.

“I’ll handle it,” Dean told them, not even waiting for a response before he was charging over to his friend, having to bash through some gangs of people to get to him. He didn’t care about the dirty looks, they were forgotten about when he made his way to Cas.

“Hey Cas,” he said loudly when he got there, wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders, gently pulling him away from the guy who needed a kick in the balls, “you okay?”

Castiel looked surprised to find Dean suddenly by his side, but he recovered quickly, turning to narrowly stare at the creep. “Yes. I was just telling this _boy,_ ” he used the term as an insult, “that I wasn’t interested and he can kindly leave me alone.”

The guy pulled a face, sweat beading on his forehead. “Aw come on, don’t be like that. We were having fun.” He stepped even closer, making Dean realise how broad the guy was. Being this close, Dean wondered how Cas had managed to stick up for himself without worrying. Surely it had to be intimidating to have someone of that size hit on you.

“I know you wanted to come and take a look at the back room with me.” He waggled his eyebrows, having the audacity to reach forward and linger his hand on Cas’ wrist. “You can take that as a euphemism if you want.”

“Didn’t you just hear what he said?” Dean snapped, grabbing the guy’s hand and tearing it away from Cas’ hand. His nails scratched the man’s skin, but Dean only saw that as an accomplishment. “He’s not interested, so fuck off.”

Instantly, the guy’s face changed. What once had been a slightly drunken happy expression turned into something threatening. “Ken Doll, you don’t need to get so fucking pissy. He’s not the only good tail in here.”

“Well,” Dean beamed sarcastically, pulling Cas even close to him, “that’s great. Go find one of them dumb enough to screw you then.”

The guy went to open his mouth, fists curling, but then he probably thought about his odds. Against one of them, he’d probably be able to take them. But two? It was likely that Dean and Cas would beat the ever loving shit out of him.

“Fuck you too then,” the guy muttered, turning on his heels and rushing away with his tail firmly tucked between his legs. Dean glared at him until he was out of sight, squeezing Cas’ shoulder subconsciously as he watched the asshole disappear.

“You okay?” Dean asked Cas, turning so they were face to face rather than side to side. Too busy squinting at the direction that the guy had stalked off to, Castiel didn’t even register Dean had said anything.

“Cas?” Dean prompted, squeezing Cas’ shoulders.

Finally, Castiel looked at him, blinking before he realised what he’d said. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Dean checked; he never really cared if a girl hit on him who he wasn’t interested in. All he had to do was say no thanks and walk away. But he was quickly realising it might be a different story when a guy was being too forward. With girls, Dean could ignore them without much of a threat. It was totally different when the other person was a guy, someone who could easily dominate you and win the fight. That shit sounded _terrifying._

“Yes,” Castiel brushed it aside, “it’s not the first time I’ve been accosted by someone I didn’t want to.” He shrugged, noting Dean’s questioning gaze. “When I was –“ he sighed, “when I was homeless, there were many men that made suggestions towards me. Even offered to buy me. So I’m accustomed to unwelcome advances. It’s fine.”

That shit didn’t sound fine to Dean, torn between feeling extremely angry or incredibly sad. To be so used to men trying it on you in such an aggressive and lewd manner was nothing short of horrific. That wasn’t a fucking way to live. How the fuck could anyone see a homeless man, someone who clearly was vulnerable, and think it would be fun to try and abuse their vulnerability by offering them money for sex? If Dean met any of them on some whim, he was worried about the lengths he would go to to show them they were fucked up in the head. He’d probably end up in jail for murder.

Feeling like he might vomit, Dean attempted a smile. “Come on,” he changed the subject, “let’s get our drinks and sit down. Charlie and Dorothy need a drink.” He grinned shakily, seemingly more shook up by the event than Cas.

“Okay.” Castiel huffed, grabbing two of the glasses, Dean grabbing the other two.

“Dean?” Castiel added as they started to weave through the crowd.

“Yeah?” Dean asked loudly, only half of his attention placed on Cas as he tried to make sure he didn’t step on any toes or spill his drink on anyone.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” Castiel said wryly, eyebrows raised mockingly.

“You’re welcome, asshole.” Dean rolled his eyes, chuckling when Castiel grinned at him.

Apparently flirtatious guys were in the water, because not ten minutes after they were sitting down again, Castiel pressed up against the wall of the booth, Dean sitting on the edge (still feeling a little protective of Castiel after what had just transpired), a man came sauntering over to Dean.

Like the guy who had hit on Cas, he was broad shouldered with defined muscles. Unlike the weathered t-shirt and jeans the other was wearing, he had tight-ass clothing on. Dean swore it was leather, making him wonder how the guy hadn’t sweated to death yet. Surely that shit had to chafe? Blue eyeliner or eyeshadow - Dean wasn’t sure – rimmed around his eyes, lips painted a bright blood red.

“Hey,” the guy announced, leaning against the back of the booth as he only gave eyes to Dean, “fancy having a dance?” He raised a perfectly shaped brow, leaning in a little closer as he placed a hand on Dean’s forearm.

Dean subtly brushed the hand off him. “Sorry kid,” Dean apologised, trying to keep it light, “I’m not much of the dancing type. I’m sure there are some out there that are though.” He nodded towards the mass of people dancing together, a blur of movement as they swayed and writhed to the loud music.

Thankfully, this guy got the message loud and clear without much of a fuss. “Got ya.” He grinned, winking at Dean as he swerved around and left Dean to it. He started to sway to the music as he walked off, a guy grabbing him by the belt loop of his leather pants. The guy adorned in leather laughed and wrapped his arms around the new guy, happy for the attention. At least he’d found someone quick enough, Dean supposed, a small part of him wishing for that kind of easy breezy happiness. His gaze averted from the newly happy couple, just as their hands started to roam to the other’s asses.

As soon as the guy had left, Castiel was invading his space even more so than usual. “Are you okay?” he murmured into his ear, making the little hairs in Dean’s ear tickle.

“What?” Dean turned to look at Castiel, confused for a moment at why Castiel sounded so urgent. “Yeah. I just told him I wasn’t interested.” He shrugged. “Better to say that than tell him that I’m straight. I’m guessing that would be a kick in the teeth when you’re in a gay bar and someone says that to you.”

Well, he assumed it would be. Gay bars were the only place that a guy could hit on a guy, or a girl could hit on a girl, knowing that they wouldn’t get an aggressive rebuttal because the other person was straight. If Dean had turned around and smugly told the guy that he was straight, he would have deserved to have been punched. And with the tight muscles that the guy had been sporting, it would have fucking hurt as well.

“You don’t mind that guys are hitting on you?” Dorothy asked from Charlie’s lap, a place she’d found herself about half an hour ago, much to Charlie’s delight. Dorothy didn’t look like she was normally the PDA type, but Charlie clearly was, and Dorothy was playing along to keep her happy. They were the picture of young, blossoming love if Dean had ever seen one.

Dean shrugged. “So long as they don’t assault me, I’m all good. Actually,” Dean frowned, thinking about it, “I’m a little pissed that I haven’t been flirted with more. I mean, look at me, girls love me so guys have got to love me too.” He drank his beer, pulling a face. “I’ve got to at least be jerk off material.”

“Dean!” Cas said, scandalised.

“What?” Dean smirked, enjoying Cas’ reaction. “I’m just saying.”

“Don’t you love yourself?” Dorothy joked, her face spread into a grin to let Dean know that she wasn’t being serious. Dorothy’s voice often sounded like she was being rude, only her facial features and Charlie’s giggling to let Dean know that she just had a sarcastic persona and she didn’t actually hate him.

“Someone has to.” Dean winked at her, half joking, half serious.

Charlie laughed, explaining with a childish grin. “It’s because you’re putting out the vibe.”

“Yep,” Dorothy seemingly agreed, gesturing to the two of them with her glass, “you and Cas are.”

Castiel stiffened next to Dean, body going taught for reasons that Dean didn’t quite understand yet. Charlie looked anxious too, biting her bottom lip as she gave Dorothy a warning glance.

“What, us two? What sort of vibe?” Dean asked, swigging the last gulp of his bottle before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. That was one good thing about not driving, he could drink as much as he wanted any fucking time he wanted, though his drinking had dramatically decreased over the years. Which he supposed was a good thing rather than a bad one.

Dorothy opened her mouth, but Charlie got there first. “The vibe that you don’t want anyone to come hit on you. It’s just in the way you’re sitting and stuff. You might as well have signs over your heads that say you don’t want a little piece of action tonight.”

Dorothy stared at Charlie for a moment, apparently bemused. And then Charlie was leaning into her, acting like she was just giving her a peck on the cheek, but Dean swore she mumbled something to her, causing Dorothy to frown. And just like that, Dorothy was agreeing. “And then a few people here are dumb and don’t see it and still try it on. But not that many people here are dumb apparently.”

Castiel relaxed next to him, though his fingers tapped against his glass impatiently.

“That makes sense I guess,” Dean hummed. He knew what it looked like, someone who was shut off from everyone. He’d saw it in countless girls’ body language in the past; those were the girls that Dean knew not to make a move on, knowing that they weren’t interested. What would be the point in bothering them if he already knew they didn’t want to find anyone? It would only make the girl uncomfortable and waste Dean’s time as well.

“I don’t think I’m putting too much of a vibe out,” Dean shrugged, “I don’t really care if any of the guys hit on me.” He came to the realisation that he hadn’t known until now; on the car ride to town, he’d secretly been wondering what he’d do if a guy flirted with him or touched him up or whatever. But now that he’d experienced it, he knew he’d been dumb to worry about it in the first place. It was just the same as when a girl he wasn’t interested in tried to get into his pants.

“A girl still might hit on you,” Charlie told him, grinning.

“How so?” Dean wrinkled his nose, trying to understand.

“Bisexuals exist, y’know. You’re talking to one of them.” Dorothy smirked, getting a peck on the cheek from Charlie.

“Shit, right, I knew that.” Dean felt like face palming and then never coming out of hiding. “I’m not – I don’t –“ He sighed.

“He’s not well versed in all of this.” Castiel helped him out, explaining with an encouraging smile Dean’s way. Thankful, Dean gave him a weak smile.

“Not many people are,” Dorothy shrugged, “but the difference is that you’re trying to learn. That makes you one of the good guys, like Charlie told me.”

The fact that Dorothy didn’t think he was a shithead made Dean relax. The entire night he’d been worried that Dorothy was silently judging him, especially with the way he kept putting his foot in his mouth. But she was cool with him and everything was good. God, why did Dean have to be such a bumbling fool when it came to being around new people?

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled, feeling his cheeks embarrassingly heat up. To try and avoid being called out on it, he grabbed his next bottle and chugged some of it down, hoping it would distract them all from teasing him about being an awkward fucker.

“Hey,” Dean leant into Cas’ space when Charlie and Dorothy started to chat; he didn’t want to put Cas on the spot in front of all three of them, “how come you’re giving off the vibe?”

Blinking, Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know what you –“

“I know why I’m apparently giving off the vibe for no one to hit on me,” he gestured to himself, “I mean, I’m not interested in guys so it’s obvious that I’m going to give the vibe out. But you,” he pointed at Cas in the chest, “you my friend, these are your kind of people. So why don’t you want anyone to come hit on you?”

A thought came into his mind, causing him to frown. “Shit, it’s not cause you’re worried about driving me home, is it?  I mean,” he scratched his cheek absentmindedly, “I don’t mind driving with you and a handsy guy –“ he missed the way Cas’ face fell, “or I could always get a motel for the night while you went and got laid.” He shrugged, frowning when his stomach churned. Perhaps he’d had one too many drinks for the night. That, or the beer choices were bad ones. Some of them made him feel sickly sometimes.

“Anything for a friend.” He waggled his eyebrows, quickly realising that Cas wasn’t playing along with his antics. “What, are you not in the mood tonight or something?” He frowned.

Castiel averted his gaze, staring at the beer stained table in from of them, his hands reaching out to grasp the edge of it, the whites of his knuckles sticking out on his tanned skin. “No,” he replied softly, “I’m not in the mood tonight.”

Dean put two and two together. “You’re not one for one night stands are you?” He suggested, making sure he kept his voice low enough to not get attention from Charlie and Dorothy, though he had to lean in to keep to that plan. The place was blaring music loudly after all.

Castiel sighed, body deflating like a balloon. “No,” he admitted, “not really.”

“Well,” Dean looked at it in a different way, hoping to cheer Cas up a bit, “not everyone in here will be looking for a one night stand. You might find someone who’s looking for something more serious,” he suggested, placing his beer onto the table. He needed to stop drinking, he decided, else he was going to puke.

Still looking down in the dumps, Cas stared at the sticky table, like he wanted the conversation to be shut down immediately. Dean knew when to shut up, even when slightly tipsy, so he did just that, though his mouth was burning to ask more questions. Was Cas not looking for a relationship at the moment then? Or was there someone he was already interested in that Dean didn’t know about? The thought wasn’t a pleasant one for Dean, uncomfortableness settling in his stomach alongside the churning. He just didn’t like the idea of Cas dating someone that Dean’s hadn’t met and had been able to check out to see whether they would treat Cas right.

But Cas wasn’t going to talk about it so Dean wasn’t going to ask. Even though he really wanted to know what the hell was going on in Cas’ life. Which apparently included his love life, who knew.

“Hey, you two,” Charlie chirped, standing up slightly with her hand still wrapped around Dorothy’s, “come and dance.”

Dean snorted. “If you think I’m dancing, you can think again.”

Charlie pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“I am a lot of fucking fun,” Dean crossed his arms, “you don’t have to make yourself look like an idiot to be fun.”

“I’m agreeing with Dean on this one,” Cas added, happier now that the conversation had been changed.

“See?” Dean chuckled. “We don’t dance.”

“Spoilsports,” Dorothy told them. “Well, you can look after all our stuff while we go have a dance off.”

“Fine by us,” Dean laughed, watching them get swallowed by the crowd. Charlie and Dorothy had young hearts, the epitome of young, innocent love. Dean hoped they’d stick together, even when shit came their way.

“Hey,” Dean nudged Cas with his shoulder, “I’m having a good night tonight.” He told him, mouth close to Cas’ ear so he could hear him. Dean swore the music was getting louder and louder as the night went on. Tomorrow morning, Dean was going to wake up with no eardrums.

Castiel nodded in agreement. “Me too. Thank you for coming out with us.”

Dean tipped his beer so it pinged with Castiel’s glass. “And thanks for pretty much forcing Charlie to invite me.” He added as an afterthought, smiling, “Would you really not have come if I hadn’t?”

Castiel shrugged. “I would still have driven Charlie here and perhaps stayed for an hour, but then I would have just driven back home. Charlie and Dorothy don’t mean to, but when they’re together –“

“They’re kind of in their own bubble,” Dean finished Cas’ sentence. “Yeah, I get you. Well, I’m glad you forced Charlie to invite me. This isn’t my usual kind of thing, but it’s been a good night. And the night’s still not over yet. We still have the ride back home,” Dean winked, “you’re gonna be stuck with me.”

“I don’t mind being stuck with you,” Castiel said, so earnestly that Dean didn’t have it in him to make fun of Cas for it. There was something too endearing about the way Cas spoke, making Dean just want to pull him into a hug. Or maybe that was just the alcohol talking.

“For a long time, I’ve been used to being alone. But now I’ve found so many friends, it wouldn’t have been so enjoyable to drive so far tonight alone,” Castiel admitted, making Dean’s heart lurch. “You’re my –“ Castiel swallowed, audible to Dean even in the loud environment, “you’re my closest friend and I’m always happy to be in your company.” He murmured, blue eyes bright as he stared levelly at Dean. Even now, it felt like Cas was _seeing_ him, faults and all. And even through all the bullshit, Cas saw him as his best friend or whatever, happy to talk to him and do stupid shit. Hell, he’d demanded Charlie to invite Dean just so he could have his company on a dumb night out.

Dean had never felt like he was first priority for someone, for someone to _want_ to be with him over anyone else. Not for a long time now anyway. Sam had Jess. Jo had Ellen. Everyone had _someone._ He wasn’t used to it at all, but now that he had it, he knew it felt fucking _good._ And perhaps a little terrifying too. Because one day, Cas was going to find his other someone and Dean was going to be lost and forgotten.

“Yeah,” Dean coughed, feeling awkward and more than a little overwhelmed, “me too, uh, right back at you.”

The crinkle in the corners of Cas’ eyes as he smiled made Dean feel like hadn’t done such an awful job in replying as he’d thought.


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey,” Dean called, shutting the door behind him with ease. The weather was getting warmer now they were into spring, so he’d opted for no jacket, just an old sweater of his that he thought Cas would be proud of – the guy was a sweater guy through and through.

“Hey,” Sam said distracted, apparently too distracted to even tell Dean off for sailing into his apartment without even a knock on the door. Not even a text to warn him of his arrival. Even though they both did it to each other all the fucking time, they still liked to pout about it. Apparently not today though. There were booklets arrayed in front of Sam on the coffee table. Instead of sitting on the couch, he was knelt on the floor so he could look at them properly.

Intrigued, Dean made his way to the couch and peeked over his little brother’s shoulder. “What’re you doing?”

“Looking at options for law schools,” Sam told him, biting his bottom lip as his gaze searched over the mounds of booklets he must have collected from college for all the law schools that existed in the entire fucking world. Well, that’s what it looked like anyway.

Frowning, Dean dug his fingers into the couch. “I thought you already knew which law school you were going to?”

Well, as far as Dean was aware, Sam had. As soon as Sam had started at community college, he’d told Dean which law school was the goal for him, one that was close to home, close enough for Dean and Sam to see each other all the time still. Close enough for Dean not to feel like his brother was too far away for him to look over.

“That one is a possibility, yeah,” Sam agreed, which was news to Dean. Sam scratched his cheek absentmindedly before he was suddenly trying to scurry up all the pamphlets. With a weird feeling in his stomach, Dean couldn’t help but feel like it looked a hell of a lot like Sam was trying to hide them from him. Considering that, Dean let his eyes linger on all the names of the universities, trying to understand why Sam wouldn’t want him to see. And then he hit the jackpot. If a jackpot meant his little brother was moving hours and hours from home.

“Wait,” Dean halted him with a firm hand on his shoulder, “what about this one?” He snatched the leaflet out of Sam’s grip. “That’s on the other side of the state.” His blood ran cold.

Sam stilled, muscles tightening as he started to speak, slowly and carefully as if he were speaking to a bull who’d just seen red. “I know, but it’s the one I’ve always wanted to go to. You know that.” He didn’t look at Dean, didn’t even try to as he reached out to grab the leaflet from him. Too confused as to what was happening, Dean didn’t stop him.

“But that was before,” Dean insisted, aware that he was already getting onto the defensive train, but he couldn’t quite help himself. Something was going on. Something that he didn’t fucking like. And it was something that needed to quashed right there and then. It was just the idea that Sam had been hiding this. Not once had he mentioned any other law school, not once had he told Dean that he’d been considering other options, places that were further from home.

At the words, Sam bundled up the pamphlets and stood up, depositing them in the cabinet on the far wall. His shoulders were tense as he dropped them in there, two pamphlets fluttering away and falling to the floor. Sam didn’t bother to pick them up.

“Before what?” Sam asked, challenging Dean.

“You know what.” Dean retorted with a broken snort.

_Before our parents died. Before you met Ruby. Before you became a drug addict. Before you nearly **died.**_

“Look,” Sam tried to change the way they were handling it, going into his maddening understanding thing where he just doled out puppy eyes, “I just looked into it, that’s all. Turns out they have a great AA there. I’d be eligible to be someone’s sponsor.” He explained and Dean didn’t miss the excitement shining in his brother’s eyes. Honestly, Dean kind of wanted to puke.

All of it was brand new information to Dean. Every fucking time they’d discussed law schools, the only one that came up was the one two towns over. Not once had Sam ever mentioned anything different. Not _once._ Yet here he was, having researching enough to know about AA services at a college he was only ‘considering’. Dean called fucking bullshit.

“Sounds like you’ve already made your decision.” Dean crossed his arms, smiling widely and oh so fucking bitterly.

“No, Dean,” Sam pleaded, running a hand through his hair, “it’s not like that. I’m just keeping my options open. It’s not just me I have to think about. Jess needs to find a good job too.”

“Jess said she was happy to work at the animal hospital near the law school that, oh yeah, you said you were going to,” Dean snapped sharply; the more and more Sam spoke, the angrier and more betrayed Dean felt. “She told me she was happy with it. She’s even been and had a fucking look at it Sam. She told me that there were great facilities there. This isn’t about Jess so don’t pretend that it is.”

“Dean –“ Sam started to speak, but Dean instantly shut him off.

“And anyway, Jess isn’t the one who’s a drug addict who needs to stay close to the family that he’s got left, his support system, so he doesn’t take drugs and overdose again,” Dean growled.

The words were like a physical blow to Sam; he even took a step back as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Instantly, Dean regretted the words. Dean knew he shouldn’t have gone there so fucking fast, he shouldn’t have thrown Sam’s addiction in his face like that. But he was angry, mad that Sam hadn’t told him what was really going on. Hiding things from Dean reminded Dean of the last time Sam had kept things secret – Sam nearly dead on a hospital bed.

And dammit, Dean was terrified, downright _terrified_ of what was going to happen if Sam went to a different law school. If he wasn’t nearby. If Dean couldn’t easily reach him. If Dean was left behind and forgotten about when Sam was offered a pill by some random fucking stranger on campus.

Now though, Dean had turned the conversation sour. It was every man for himself now. Dean knew it and Sam sure as hell knew it too.

“Wow, Dean.” Sam was hurt, Dean could see it in how Sam’s jaw was trembling, lips pressing together as he stared Dean right in the eye. “Thanks for your trust in me. I really appreciate it.”

Ultimately, Dean knew he could still turn it around. He could apologise, put his hands up and say they should talk about this like actual civilised human beings who were brothers. But Dean didn’t want to apologise, nor did he want to have a conversation where he would have to politely nod as his little brother told him he was planning on moving across the fucking state.

A small part of him – no, a fucking _huge_ part of him- hated himself when he retorted pettily. “Pretty difficult to trust someone when they’ve already broken that trust time and time again. Maybe you’ve forgotten that, but I haven’t. I haven’t forgotten watching you go from a snot nosed kid who dreamed of being a lawyer to a guy completely off his fucking head.”

Sam shook his head and laughed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose before running a hand through his hair. “This is what you do. This is what you always do.”

“And what’s that Sammy?” Dean heard his own voice raise. “Do fucking tell me.”

“You put everyone on fucking pedestals!” Sam shouted back, lungs most likely protesting as he slammed his hand against the wall, more frustrated than threatening towards Dean. “Everyone you fucking care for, you put them on this unreachable pedestal, like we’re the fucking best people who can do no wrong.” He pointed at Dean, hand shaking in the space between them. “You rely on us so fucking much that when we act like human beings, when we actually do something wrong, you treat us like the scum of the earth. I’ve made mistakes, I know that, but you treat them like the end of the world and you never fucking let me forget it.”

Dean shook his head, not even bothering to comment on that; that was until Sam took a low blow.

“It’s exactly what you’re doing with Cas –“ Sam started, but Dean didn’t give him chance to finish.

“Don’t you fucking do that,” Dean took a deafening step forward, “don’t you bring him into this, don’t you dare. This isn’t about him.”

“It’ll happen to him too. He’ll do something wrong and you’ll hate him for it. Worse, you’ll hate yourself because you’ll somehow blame it all on you.” Sam laughed, no joy in the broken song. There were tears in his eyes now. “All this time, you talk about my addiction and you act like it wasn’t happening to _me._ Like I wasn’t slowing killing myself because I didn’t know what the fuck to do after Mom and Dad died. I was doing it to myself –“

“And you were doing it to me too!” Dean’s voice broke as he yelled, hating the way it sounded. “I was the one who had to pick up the pieces. Who had to see you nearly die because you were being selfish, just like you’re fucking being now.”

Because that’s what Sam was doing, wasn’t it? He was going off to college, only thinking about himself. He wasn’t thinking about how Dean was going to have to stay behind, having sleepless nights as he wondered whether Sam was going to stray off the path he’d fought so hard to carve. While Sam would be living the high life, learning to be a lawyer with his girlfriend at his side, Dean would be sitting at home waiting for a phone call to say his little brother was back in the hospital with drugs in his system.

“Do you even know the reason why I stopped taking drugs, why I asked for help and got clean?” Sam switched the argument entirely, quick enough to give Dean whiplash, but not for long.

“Because you overdosed,” Dean huffed. “Because you realised that you might actually die next time.” He tried not to wince at the words.

“No,” Sam shook his head, all anger fading as he murmured, “that’s not why at all. It’s because I heard you, Dean. I heard what you said in that hospital room.”

Dean flinched.

“You said it was killing you,” Sam said, the water blurring his eyes staring to trail down his cheeks. “You said that watching me do that to myself was killing you. And that you wasn’t sure how much longer you could take it. So I go the help. I did it for _you_ as well as me. Every time I even _think_ about going back to that, back to what I was, I remember you in that hospital room. I remember how – how broken you were because of me.” He explained, breath catching.

Dean stayed quiet. He didn’t know what to say to that. Not once had he thought that Sam had heard him when he’d vigilantly kept by his hospital bed, admitting in a murmur that he couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep watching his brother pop pill after pill.  Yet, all along, Sam had heard every word. How the fuck was Dean supposed to take that? How to sort that in his brain?

“I can handle going to law school, Dean,” Sam continued, voice softening and oh so pleading. “I can handle moving away from here, if that’s what I want to do. You have to trust me on this. Do you trust me?”

And that was the million dollar question. Did Dean trust his little brother? Only a few years ago, Dean would have scoffed at the question and thought that of course he fucking trusted his brother, he trusted him with his _life._ But so much had happened. There’d been secrets hidden, lie after lie alongside pill after pill. And all of it had hacked away at Dean’s trust in Sam. In the way Dean believed in his little brother. But there Sam was, asking him to trust him in something so fucking huge. Sam was _begging_ him to.

“I don’t know if I can,” Dean admitted, finding that he too was crying now, a heavy weight on his chest as he realised with a thud of his heart that he didn’t trust his brother. The only true family he had left and he didn’t trust him. What the hell did that make Dean? What did it mean for their relationship?

Sam shook his head, disbelieving Dean’s word, or at least pretending to disbelieve them. “No,” he shook his head, trying to change Dean’s mind, “I have my life sorted out. I know when I’m on the verge of relapsing, I go to therapy if I need to. I have everything sorted. I know how to handle things.” Sam was begging now, there were no other words to explain it. He may as well have been on his knees and gripping onto Dean’s legs like he used to when he was a little boy and crying when he thought Dean was going to do something without him.

But the words didn’t do anything to change Dean’s mind. Dean shook his head, only once. He didn’t want to say the words again, he didn’t want to see Sam break even more. When Dean stayed unresponsive, Sam’s face changed. His expression went from tears to unexplainable anger, jaw hardening. He felt attacked, so now he was going to attack back. That was what they did. They never talked about shit, they just hacked at each other in defence.

“I don’t even think this is about me,” Sam said dully. “I think this is about you.” He pressed his lips together, adding like a stab to Dean’s heart. “You just don’t want to be alone.”

“Oh,” Dean took an involuntary step back, his guard up, as simple as that, “that’s what you think?” He smiled bitterly, forgetting the unwept tears.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam laughed unpleasantly, “out of the two of us, you’re the one who is more of a fucking mess.”

“Wha –“ Dean swallowed down the bile in his throat, “what did you say?”

“I know what I am. I know I’m a recovering drug addict. I’ll admit it. I’ll hold my hands up –“ Sam even raised his hands, palms facing Dean, “and just admit it. But you? You run away from all of your fucking problems. Ever since that car crash, you have been just as much of a mess as I have and you have done fuck all to change that.”

“Shut your mouth,” Dean warned.

“No,” Sam disagreed, “because I’m right.” He took a step forward, so there was barely a foot between them. “I have tried so many damn times to get you to open up, to admit your problems so I could try and help you. But you always shut me out, shut it down like it’s nothing. Yet I’m the one who can’t be trusted?” He choked out a bitter laugh, tears springing in his eyes. “You can’t even get in the Impala, Dean. You can’t get into a cab. You don’t even like to walk on the pavement of a fucking road. You don’t even like to talk about Mom and Dad. You act like it never even happened –“

“Shut up.” Dean told him quietly.

Sam didn’t relent. “You need help, not me. You can’t keep saying I’m a mess and that I can’t be trusted. You can’t keep reminding me of the shit I’ve done if you’re not willing to admit to your own problems. Frankly,” Sam announced through tears, “I’m sick of it.”

“Fuck you.” Dean’s fists clenched.

Again, Sam didn’t stop. Worse, he gave the lowest blow he could. “If Mom and Dad were here, they would want you to get help, Dean.”

At that, Dean snapped.

“Don’t you fucking bring them into this!” He shoved Sam, hard enough to make him stumble. “You know what?” Dean shouted, realising he was _done._ He was so fucking _done._ “You should go to your fancy fucking law school. You should prove to everyone how much better you are than me, how together your fucking life is. I don’t give a fuck anymore. I have done _everything_ for you, but it doesn’t matter. You’re the perfect son that Mom and Dad would be proud of. And I’m the mess they would have to call their kid, I get it. So you know what? Go off and make them proud.” His voice broke, but he didn’t care as he shoved past Sam to get out of the apartment. The door slammed shut behind him, the wood protesting on its hinges. Again, Dean didn’t care as he tried his best not to sob as he ran down the stairs.

The march back home didn’t help Dean feel better. Sometimes, walking in the crisp air would get his mind into gear and he’d be able to calm himself down and try and think of things in a different perspective. Not this time. Each footstep was another reminder of what Sam had told him. He’d called him a mess, he’d brought their parents into it, even Cas.

By the time Dean had stormed across to his apartment, he was determined to prove Sam wrong.

With a quickening of speed, Dean rushed to the garages and parking lot hidden behind his apartment, a spot that he only ever found himself if he was in one of his friend’s cars, though the times were few and in between. Not even faltering, Dean forced the key into the garage door, dragging it open so the car was in sights. Dean hadn’t stepped into the place for over five and a half years, not since after he’d fixed the Impala and then promptly hidden it away from anyone’s gaze.

The Impala was exactly how Dean had left it. There were no words to describe her other than beautiful, the jet black exterior, the leather seating that squeaked and groaned when you sat on it, but it was the best place for your ass to be. The wheels were gleaming, a beautiful shine to them. Not a dent or mark of dirt in sight. All of it was beautiful. And sickening to look at.

Still determined, Dean found the right key on his jangling keys, shoving it into the keyhole of the driver’s side of the car. He forced the door open with a heavy grasp, the door groaning. Quickly, Dean threw himself into the car, sitting on the chair with a thud and slamming the door shut behind him. He was trapped inside. With a stormy mind, he pushed the key into the ignition, twisting it to start the car.

At the roar of the engine, Dean quickly realised a lot of things at once. Dean had missed the smell of the car, the smell that made him think of home, just like apple pie did. He’d missed the leather interior, the way the seat sunk and fitted around the curve of his body. He realised he’d missed the steady purr of the engine.

The biggest realisation?

That he couldn’t fucking do this.

Feeling bile rise in his chest, Dean stumbled out of the car, only just remembering to switch the car’s engine back off as he fell to his knees on the asphalt. Swallowing down the vomit that was threatening to escape, Dean all but crawled to the wall of the garage, pressing his back against it as he pushed his knees up to his chin.

Scrambling around, Dean found his phone in his jeans pocket, dropping it twice before he finally pressed the right buttons for it to start dialling. Most likely it was only a few seconds, but to Dean, it felt like hours before Cas’ voice was enveloping his right ear.

“Hello?”

“Cas?” Dean gulped for air like a goldfish that had suddenly forgotten how to swim, forgotten its purpose. “Cas.” He choked, pressing his back further against the wall as he shut his eyes to take the vision of the car from his retinas. Closing his eyes wasn’t enough though, they were still burning, hands still trembling, stomach still churning.

“ _Help,”_ he begged.

Just like that, there was a rustling on the other line as Cas asked, urgent now. “Where are you, Dean?”

“At –“ Dean swallowed, feeling himself panic more and more at each struggle for oxygen, “in the – in the garage under- _shit –“_ he lost two breaths and for a short moment, he thought he wasn’t going to find another, “at my – at my apartment.”

“Okay,” Castiel said, completely calm in his voice, something that Dean latched onto. “What number garage are you, Dean?”

There was still a rustling in the background; if Dean were in the right mind, he would have realised that it was the noise of Cas rushing out of his home to get into his car, but Dean was too far gone to understand.

“Number – number eleven.” Dean sucked in a breath, his spare hand clenching into a fist, so tightly that it felt like he might be drawing blood from where his nails dug into his palm.

“Okay Dean,” Castiel replied, still so calm and Dean was too out of it to wonder whether it was all some façade. “I’m on my way. I’m getting into my car now and I’ll be there as soon as possible,” he promised. “Can you just tell me whether you’re hurt?”

Dean shook his head, taking a few seconds to realise that Cas wouldn’t be able to see the movement. “N – no, I’m not – I’m not –“ he gave up on finishing the sentence, though Castiel seemed to understand.

“Okay Dean,” he said, “can you keep talking to me?”

The promise that Cas was going to stay on the line and not hang up soothed Dean, but the concept of talking was something of an enigma to Dean.

“No,” Dean shook his head, his fist coming up to forcibly rest against his eye, feeling the moisture gather on his knuckles, “you – you talk.”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, the whir of the engine behind his words, “I can do that.”

“Cas, I don’t –“ Dean shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek painfully. He could taste blood in his mouth, spoiling his throat as he tried his hardest to do the most simplest of things and fucking _breathe._

The sentence was unfinished, yet Castiel seemed to understand what Dean was trying to say. “It’s okay, Dean. I’m going to be there really soon. I just need you to stay on the phone for me, that’s all. You can do that for me.”

Dean took a sharp breath in, throat hurting. “Okay.”

“Okay Dean,” Castiel murmured in agreement; there was a small pause before Castiel started to talk. “Aniel came back today. She’s been gone a few days and she came into my bedroom this morning with a mouse. A mouse that’s still alive, no less.” Castiel huffed, keeping calm, just as Dean needed him to. “I think it was Anna’s way of saying she missed me. I had to catch the thing and let it out before Aniel ate it. Anna wasn’t very pleased with me.”

Latching onto Cas’ voice, Dean pressed the phone closer to his ear, clutching it in both of his hands like it was his life support. Truth be told, it _was_ the only thing that was keeping him going right now.

“I don’t think she’s my friend now, she’s been moving around the house with her head in the air like she’s better than me.” Castiel continued, his deep voice a soothing lull to Dean. “But I’ve left her a toy rat in the living room, so hopefully she’ll find that and think I’ve left her something exciting and then she’ll like me again. She can be very fickle when she wants to be.”

Dean nodded as if Cas could see him.

The next fifteen minutes were much the same, Castiel blurting out random shit about his cat, the latest flowers that he working on for a bouquet, and the time a dodgy customer came in and Charlie and Meg had scared the stupid guy shitless. For most of the stories, Dean wasn’t even paying attention to the words. If someone came up to him and offered a million bucks if he could recall everything that Cas had just told him, Dean would have left the conversation empty handed. But it wasn’t the stories that were soothing Dean and keeping him calm, it was merely Cas’ voice, a constant murmur like the sound of the Impala’s engine.

The words that Dean did actually catch were the important ones. “Dean, I’m getting out of the car now. I’ll be with you any second, okay?”

Mutely, Dean nodded. He was still unable to speak. All of his strength was being used to breathe, there was no fucking way he could speak as well. Thankfully, Castiel waited until he was in the garage with Dean, right in eyesight, before he hung up the phone. There was a clatter of Dean’s phone falling to the floor, and then Cas was rushing to his side and kneeling on the ground next to him.

For some reason, Dean thought that the sight of Castiel would make everything better and Dean would be able to get up, do a dance, and tell Cas it had all been some weird practical joke. But it didn’t magically turn the tide. Sure, Cas made it better, but not by a lot. He was still struggling to breathe and some part of him was fairly sure that he was crying too. Great. Only God knew what Castiel must have thought of his pathetic self.

“Dean, I’m here,” Castiel told him.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded, slamming his eyes shut again; now that there were no words to listen to from Cas’ mouth, Dean could only pay attention to the sound of his own jagged breathing and the feel of his heart hammering in his chest.

“It’s okay Dean, everything is going to be okay.” Castiel shuffled forward, careful to make sure Dean still had a lot of space to himself. “Right now, you just need to focus on your breathing.”

At a self-deprecating whine from Dean’s lips, Castiel reached out and took Dean’s hand that was resting on Dean’s knee. He entwined his fingers around Dean’s hand, holding onto him tightly. “No, Dean. I know you can do this, or I wouldn’t ask you to do it. You just need to focus. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

Doing his best to please Cas, Dean kept his eyes shut as he did just that, focusing his hardest on breathing in and out. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Funny how something so simple, something that most people took for granted, felt like a complete and utter fucking chore.

“That’s much better, Dean,” Cas hummed in approval, “much better. Just keep doing that and you’ll feel so much better, I promise you Dean. Everything is going to be alright.”

The words helped slowly relax Dean, who squeezed Cas’ hands before leaning his head down as he focused. His forehead rested on their joined hands, something to remind him that Cas was there helping him through it.

Again, it felt like hours and hours passed, even fucking _days,_ but it could only have been a few minutes at most when Dean’s heart started to regulate. His breathing was still haggard, but it was good enough to stop him from panicking and feeling like he was about to die. Slowly, hand still holding Cas’ like his life depended on it, Dean raised his head and opened his eyes. The first sight he saw was Cas’ trusting blue eyes, the next, the comforting smile on the chapped lips that were much closer than normal.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel said, blinking at him kindly.

Huffing tiredly at the words, Dean mumbled, “Hey.”

“Can you get up or do you want to stay here for a moment?” Castiel asked. If Dean were paying attention, he’d have noticed that Cas was brushing his thumb against Dean’s hands, but Dean was too busy rolling his wet eyes at Cas’ words.

“I can get up, I’m not a fucking invalid,” Dean commented dryly. One thing that he hated was when people treated him like a fucking child. Sure, he’d felt like he was dying two seconds ago, but it didn’t mean people could mollycoddle him. No fucking way.

“Back to normal then,” Castiel joked, lips quirking up as he stood up, pulling Dean with him by their joined hands. Dean gave Cas’ hand one awkward final squeeze before letting go, scratching his cheek. Now that his mind was clear, he was suddenly hit by embarrassment. It wasn’t every day that you had a breakdown, called your best friend, who had to hold your hand until you were able to stop thinking about a damn car and be able to breathe again.

“Sorry.” Dean smiled weakly, doing his best to scrub at his eyes and wet cheeks as casually as he could. Which wasn’t casual at all. He didn’t even know why he was bothering, Cas knew that he’d been crying, he didn’t need to try and hide it away from him.

“I guess I freaked out,” Dean mumbled, looking away from Cas’ burning gaze as his own cheeks heated up. God, why was Dean such a fuck up?

“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologise for this,” Castiel replied and Dean knew he meant it. Though that didn’t change that Dean felt like the biggest idiot going. What the fuck must have Cas thought of him? A pathetic twenty six year old who had a panic attack because he was in a garage.

“It’s just, I had an argument with Sam,” Dean said, voice rushed as he tried to explain. He wanted Cas to understand, wanted him to know that Dean wasn’t just being a pathetic idiot, that there was a reason behind his mess. “I told him that I didn’t think he was ready to go to law school, y’know, to leave town.” He fluttered his eyes shut as he admitted, voice small. “I told him that I didn’t trust him.”

Dean was still confused that he’d said those words aloud. Not only that, but he was surprised that, deep down, he actually felt them. Sure, he’d always felt some kind of distrust about Sam, because of everything he’d done a few years ago. But Dean hadn’t realised the true animosity he’d felt for his brother until Sam had asked him to trust his instincts. What was Dean supposed to do now that he didn’t trust his own brother, the person who he was supposed to trust the most? What the hell was Dean supposed to do with that?

“I’m assuming he didn’t react well,” Castiel murmured, rubbing Dean’s shoulder, no judgement at hearing what Dean had done. That was something Dean appreciated more than he could voice; some of his other friends would whack him around the back of his head for saying something off kilter that upset Sam, but Castiel didn’t say anything. He wasn’t telling Dean whether he’d said or done the right thing, he was simply being there for him. And that was just what Dean needed.

“No,” Dean sighed, “he got all defensive, the good old Winchester way.” He smiled bitterly through new tears, much to his frustration. “He said I was the mess of the family, not him.”

“Dean,” Castiel implored, shocked at the implication, “that’s not true.”

“It kinda is though. I _am_ a mess,” Dean told him, staring intently at the floor as he rubbed at his eyes. “Jesus Christ, look at me. I can’t even get into my own car, for fucks sake. If someone paid me a boatload of cash to drive somewhere, I wouldn’t be able to do it.” Castiel didn’t even blink at that news, making Dean realised that he probably wasn’t as good at hiding that little bit of him as well as he thought.

“And I only let, like, five people give me a ride. I can’t catch a fucking cab or get on a bus. All because of that damn crash,” he stormed, angry at himself, angry at the world that they’d been given.

Surprise littered Cas’ expression. Castiel had definitely not been expecting that part at least. It wasn’t like Dean had told him about it. He knew about the crash of course, but Dean had been careful to hide away his other secret. He never liked to admit to people that he was some freak who couldn’t get into a car unless it was someone who he devotedly trusted. It never made conversation. Dean always tried his hardest to keep it from new people, making any excuse to not get in a car with them other than the cold, hard truth.

“But you –“ Castiel started to say.

“But I let your drive me around. Yeah, I know.” Dean sighed. “Trust me, that was as much of a surprise for me.”

“Oh,” Castiel said quietly, his hand on Dean’s shoulder falling forlornly to his side. Dean wasn’t looking at Cas, so he couldn’t see how Cas was gazing at him; honestly, Dean was kind of terrified to see what would be written on Cas face. Instead of waiting for Castiel to say anything else, Dean carried on with his ramble.

“I just got here and I was fucking angry and I wanted to prove him wrong, y’know? But it just –“ Dean faltered, breath starting to escape him all over again, “- as soon as I got in the car.”

Understanding where Dean was heading, Castiel reached back over to squeeze Dean’s wrist, trying to force Dean to catch his gaze. “Dean, look at me.” Castiel didn’t speak until Dean made himself look up at Cas. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting in Cas’ eyes, but he found a part of him sighing in relief that there was no anger, pity, or downright confusion at what Dean had just told him; apparently there had been some of Dean’s mind that thought he’d find that.

“Let’s not talk anymore about it right now, okay? Let’s get inside and you can have some water,” Castiel offered, squeezing Dean’s wrist.

“O – Okay.” Dean nodded, taking one more breath in and out before slowly walking back to the garage door. He could only be grateful that no other random person had walked by and saw him having a panic attack.

There was a jangling noise and Dean looked back, realising that Cas had grabbed Dean’s set of keys. Promptly ignoring any sight of the garage besides Castiel’s frame, Dean waited for Cas to come out of the garage before dragging the garage door shut. Castiel finished it off by locking it with a flick of his wrist.

Tiredly, like his limbs were made of heavy lead, Dean led the way up to his apartment, opting to go for the dodgy elevator that rattled, rather than attempting to make the trek up the stairs. It was definitely not like him, but he figured he might collapse if he tried to walk after losing his breath so badly only minutes ago. Without saying anything about the death trap elevator, Castiel followed Dean into the small box, waiting patiently as the elevator bouncily went up the several floors.

When the elevator doors dinged open, Dean swiftly left the whining machinery, Castiel quickly following him. Still feeling very much like shit, almost as if he’d been put through a washing machine on speed, Dean opened his door. He let Cas go in first, who was still staring at him worriedly.

As Dean shut the door behind him, he fought the urge to rest his forehead against it and just give up on every fucking thing in his life. Honestly, he was close to just dropping to his knees, when Cas took control and jolted Dean back to normal.

“Dean, you need to drink some water.” Castiel headed straight to the kitchen, looking back at Dean expectantly when he didn’t follow. With nothing much else to do, Dean followed him. When Dean just stood there in the kitchen doorway, Castiel raised an eyebrow in a way that Dean knew he couldn’t say no to.

“Right.” Dean nodded. Again, Castiel took control, grabbed a glass and turned on the tap to pour some fresh water into the cup. Only then did he pass it onto Dean, who took it with a murmured thanks. Not taking his eyes off him for a second, Castiel watched Dean glug the water down. Automatically, Dean felt better now that he’d drank something. It was always the same with the other panic attacks, a cool glass of water always helped. Somehow, Cas had known that.

Castiel watched him some more, lips set into a small, concerned frown. “Have you had these before?” he murmured.

“Not a lot. I had them a few times after the crash and when everything was happening with Sam.” Dean brushed it away with a wave of his hand, ready to dismiss it already and be done with it. He didn’t like talking about it, especially after having one so shortly before. “Not so much after that.” He shrugged, hoping Castiel would let it go.

Castiel’s eyes seemed to see right through him as he carefully asked, gently taking the empty glass from Dean’s grip, their hands briefly touching as he pulled it from him and placed it on the kitchen counter. “Have you ever thought about talking to someone?”

Huffing, Dean decided to answer with another question, swiping the back of his hand against his mouth to get rid of any remnant water on his lips, “I’m talking to you aren’t I?”

“I mean someone who is more specialised in this than I am,” Castiel replied, still keeping his gaze firmly on Dean. Honestly, Dean didn’t know whether he watching him so closely in case he had another breakdown, or because he was trying to keep Dean calm or something. Confuse him with those distracting blue eyes of his. Cas’ eyes always seemed to roam a little too deep into Dean’s mind for Dean to be comfortable with. It caused a prickly sensation at the back of his neck like there were a million spider scuttling on his skin. Weirdly enough though, it somehow comforted Dean at the same time. Maybe it was because it made Dean feel like Cas could see past all the bullshit, see more than anyone else, so it made Dean feel like he could perhaps not hide things away as much as he normally did. He still tried to fight back and push his problems back into a dusty corner, but the urge wasn’t quite so strong around Castiel.

The staring, like Dean thought Cas had intended, distracted Dean for a moment, causing him to blink a couple of times because he realised what Cas was implying. And then his defences were back.

“You mean some kind of fucking shrink?” Dean barked back, eyes narrowing at Cas, hoping he’d back down. _Now._

“Possibly,” Castiel simply replied with a half shrug.

“No,” Dean snapped definitively. “Talking to a stranger about my shitty problems isn’t going to work for me. Not to mention that they cost a fucking arm and a leg when all they do is sit there and listen to you for two hours a week. I mean,” he stared to pace a little, giving himself the excuse of cleaning up the few newly clean plates on the side of the sink, placing them in the cabinets with perhaps more rigour than necessary, “I did some shrink stuff with Sam. It was part of his treatment. We had to have talks together with this random guy, it was supposed to help Sam deal with some of his shit. Because I needed to be a part of his recovery or whatever. And you know what? I fucking hated every second of it.” Dean stormed.

“The only reason I did it was because I could see that it was helping Sam. If it hadn’t have been for that, I would have probably punched the so called _doctor_ in the face.” Dean finished with a flourish, dropping the last piece of cutlery into its place to then slam the drawer shut.

Castiel didn’t relent, though he also made no mention of Dean’s dramatic clean up act. “This would be different though. It would be about you, not Sam. And you’d be able to find someone who was best suited to you and your needs. Who you felt comfortable with,” Castiel offered, making Dean feel that Cas might have considered this for Dean for far longer than he’d mentioned. And Dean wasn’t sure how to react to that, nor feel.

“Forget it Cas,” Dean told him squarely. “I don’t need a fucking head doctor. It’s just the driving thing that’s a problem. But I’m fine, I can handle this shit by myself.” He inwardly winced at how unsure that sounded, even to himself. Because he knew he wasn’t dealing with this well, else he would have been driving around in his car years and years ago.

“Dean.” Castiel sighed regretfully, taking the few steps towards Dean so he could place a hand on Dean’s shoulder, right above his tattoo, the tattoo he tried not to think about. It made Dean feel even more on edge, though Cas wasn’t to know. “You just had a panic attack because you got into your car.”

Whether it was the topic of conversation, Cas’ hand on his tattoo, or a violent combination of both of them, Dean shrugged off Cas’ hand. “Screw you,” he gritted through his teeth.

“Dean,” Castiel pleaded, not even looking remotely afraid at the possibility of Dean turning violent, “please just listen to me.”

“No,” Dean bit back, hating himself even more as he growled, “you can go fuck yourself.” He didn’t wait for a reply, didn’t even cast a glance to Cas’ face before he shoved past him. Unsure of whether he was about to cry or punch something, Dean didn’t stop until he was forcing the balcony door open, slamming it shut behind him.

 

* * *

 

Darkness was starting to take over, breeze hitting Dean’s bones as he lit up a cigarette with a sigh. In the space of one day, Dean had pushed away two of the people he was closest to. Not only that, but Jess would have soon heard what had happened too, so Dean would’ve lost her to. There was a ripple effect, because soon he’d probably have texts from Jo asking what the fuck happened, because she always managed to find out shit that she shouldn’t. Soon, everyone would know how much of a fuck up he was.

Goosebumps caressed his skin as he took the first puff of the cigarette, hating himself a little more as he sighed around something that could actually kill him.

Now, after standing up for too long, Dean had taken to sitting on the floor of the balcony, legs hanging over the edge between the barriers. His legs dangled, making him feel even more off balance.

After three more puffs, the door behind him opened, making him jump out of his skin. But it wasn’t a murdere after all, just Castiel, who for some reason was still _here._ The expression on his face was unreadable as he shut the door behind him to join Dean on the small balcony. His trench coat was in his hands, bundled up like a security blanket. In a way, Dean thought it might just be that for the guy; he always seemed to have it with him. Perhaps he’d had it since he’d woken up in that damn hospital five years ago. Maybe Castiel had just as much trouble letting go as Dean did.

“I thought you’d left,” Dean mumbled, turning his gaze back to the town he’d lived in for the entirety of his life. Now that it was dark, all he could see were streetlights and windows of buildings lit up. The occasional car went to and fro and some kids mustn’t have been that many blocks away, causing a racket and acting up like teenagers did. Dean wondered whether anyone else out there was having such a fucking awful day like him. He didn’t know whether it would be comforting or not.

“No,” Castiel disagreed, thoughtfulness in his tone when he reached down and draped the trench coat around Dean’s shoulders. “Here,” he murmured, “I thought you might be cold.” He offered quietly. He sat down next to Dean, scrambling a little inelegantly to get his legs to go through the gaps between the barriers. Unlike Dean’s stillness, Cas kicked his legs gently, hands curling into fists around the railings, like he was in jail and desperate to get out. Being around Dean’s company, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if Cas had that feeling.

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled, wrapping the coat around his shoulders as he quickly realised how freezing he was. The days were warming up but the nights still had a chill. He huddled into the coat. Even in the breeze and flying ash, he could smell Cas on the coat. Dean took another drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke slowly.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Castiel remarked, resting his cheek against the railing as he looked at Dean. They were sitting closely because of the sheer tininess of the balcony, bodies pressed together from shoulder to ankle.

“I don’t,” Dean sniffed, “not really. Just when I feel like shit. Well,” Dean laughed humourless, “when I _really_ feel shit, else I’d be smoking all the time.” He cocked his head to properly look at Cas. “Guess you don’t approve.”

“You can do whatever you want,” Castiel murmured, eyebrows raised in surprise that he thought Dean would think anything different.

Silence overtook them. Dean didn’t know what to say or do. Or how to handle that he’d told Cas to go fuck himself, yet Castiel had stayed anyway. Not only that, but he’d patiently waited until he knew Dean would be ready to talk. For fucks sake, he’d brought out a coat so Dean wouldn’t get cold.

With thoughts starting to wind into ‘ _You don’t deserve the guy next to you’_ in rapid repeat, Dean took another suck of smoke.

“The sky is beautiful tonight,” Castiel spoke softly, a small, happy sigh as he looked up at the darkening sky. The moon was bright, almost full if Dean was seeing it right. There were few stars that could be seen in town though, a reminder of the foggy pollution and bright city lights. At that cabin that his family owned, Dean remembered how the sky had been so _full._ Everywhere he’d looked, there had been a twinkling night. One time, he and Sam had sat down with Bobby, both of them on either knee, and he’d pointed out all the constellations. Even now, Dean was sure he could still remember some of them.

He didn’t know why the story came to him then, but Dean decided to tell it anyway. Maybe it was because Cas had stayed. Or maybe it was just because Dean needed to tell it.

“You know how I told you about how my grandparents died? And how we got the cabin?”

Recognition filtered into Cas’ eyes, which still looked so damn blue even in the dimness. “Your beacon of hope,” he reiterated fondly.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, looking back to the skyline of old and new buildings alike, “they were from my dad’s side of the family. I never met my mom’s parents. Something happened before I was born, I don’t know,” he shrugged, grabbing the trench coat before it slipped off due to the movement, “they were pissed that my mom wanted to be with my dad or something. I never really got the full story.

“But with my grandparents from my dad’s side, they both died within, like, a month of each other. Looking back, I guess it was because they couldn’t live without each other.” Dean looked over at Cas, pausing for a moment as he took another puff of his cigarette. Castiel stayed quiet, eyes practically boring into Dean’s, searching for something. Whether he found what he was looking for or not, Castiel looked away, down at his dangling feet.

“Anyway, I was eight at the time,” Dean continued quietly. “I knew what dying meant. I knew that it meant that they were gone and weren’t coming back. Sammy, he was too young to get it. He kept asking where they were. But I understood,” he nodded to himself, “I knew I had to be strong for Mom and Dad and help out with Sam. My grandparents had basically become my mom’s parents too, so they were both upset. So, I understood, but I was still just a kid, and I didn’t really, _really_ understand, y’know?” He asked, not waiting for an answer before he carried on.

“One of the nights, my mom took me outside to the back yard. She told me to look up at the sky.” At the words, Dean looked up, remembering the scene like it was yesterday and not so damn long ago. “She said that my grandparents were up there, they were two of the stars looking down on us. She said –“ he smiled at the memory, though it made his heart constrict and stomach churn at the same time, “she said they were watching over us. And they were making it so it was bright enough for us to see at night, to make it so we wouldn’t have to be afraid of the dark. She said that’s what we all become when we leave Earth. We become stars.” Dean bit his bottom lip as he stubbed his cigarette onto the floor, crushing it.

“And that angels were stars too, and that they –“

“They were watching over you,” Castiel murmured, finishing the sentence.

Dean sniffed, pushing himself out of his sentimentality. “Course, now I know that all the stars up there that we can see are already dead. They’re long gone. We don’t become stars when we die. We just become nothing. But it was a nice idea at the time.” He huffed, throwing the remains of the cigarette into the small tray he kept on the balcony floor.

Again, Castiel stayed silent for a moment, pulling his legs up from dangling to instead hook them under his chin. “I read somewhere that the atoms we are made of come from stars that have already exploded, that we are all made of stardust.” He tilted his head on his knees to look at Dean. “So your mother wasn’t completely wrong, Dean.”

The words were simple. But they were words that Dean had never heard before. A sentence that felt like a warm hug as he thought back to what his mother had told him, a promise she had, in a way, kept. Dean had always thought the stars was just another one of her promises made to comfort him, like Santa Claus, or that angels watched over him as he slept. But this one had an element of truth in, even though Mary probably hadn’t known. Automatically, Dean felt his muscles relax. The urge to grab another cigarette was gone.

“How do you do that?” Dean asked, not bothering to hide the wonder in his voice nor face.

Castiel blinked. “Do what?”

“Always make me feel better.” Dean nudged their shoulders together.

“Oh.” Castiel looked surprised at that, mouth becoming a small ‘o’ for a brief second. But then it was gone as he shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m glad I do.” He smiled warmly against the cold air, like Dean hadn’t told him to fuck off not long ago. Cas might have already forgotten about it, but Dean hadn’t. He’d been out of line, shouting at a guy who’d only been doing his best to _help_ him.

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbled; while his voice was quiet, it was heartfelt, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel reassured him with ease, “we all do that sometimes.”

Dean snorted. “Doubt you do.”

Castiel shook his head in response. “We all have our bad days,” he dug his chin a little deeper against his knee, hard enough to form a bundle of endearing fat on his chin, “some more than most.”

Thinking back to all the shit Castiel must have gone through since waking up in that hospital bed, Dean could only agree. “Yeah.” He mumbled, feeling the urge to bundle Cas in his arms to make him feel better. Dean did no such thing though. Instead, he pulled Cas’ coat a little tighter around himself. For all the mockery Dean had done on the coat over the past few months, he sure as hell was clinging onto it.

Dean looked down at the ashtray to his side, the used cigarette forlorn in the middle of it, much like how Dean felt. His hands gripped onto the fabric of the coat, unsure of where to go from there. Castiel seemed content with the silence, staring into the view beneath them with a small, contemplative frown. But Dean had never been one for silence. Not when there were so many things he wanted to say.

“It was an accident, Cas,” Dean licked his lips, grasping the coat tighter, “the crash,” he explained, wanting Cas to believe so much, “it wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

At the words, Castiel looked at him with the saddest eyes Dean had ever seen for a long time. They distracted him for a moment, coat nearly slipping from his cold hands, but he quickly stopped it from falling. “Dean, I know that,” Castiel told him, “and Sam knows that too.” His voice softened. “But do you?”

Out of nowhere, or somewhat a long time coming, a lump formed in Dean’s throat. As quick as that, he was sobbing. Nasty cries that made his body shake. “I should’ve been able to save them, Cas.” He shook his head as his breathing ricocheted.

There was a pained noise deep from Cas’ throat, like it physically hurt him to hear Dean cry. “Dean.” He murmured, twisting his body and dropping his knees from his chin so he could wrap his arms around Dean as tightly as possible. Not wanting Cas to see him cry for the second fucking time in one day, and also because he was not so secretly seeking extra comfort, Dean buried his face in Cas’ neck. That way Cas couldn’t see him and Dean could cry all he liked in his newly found safe cocoon.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dean, I promise you that,” Castiel rumbled and where Dean was positioned, he could hear the click of his throat, the vibrations from his chest. “None of this was your fault.” He ran a hand through the back of Dean’s hair, smoothing it down. The touch was a constant, symmetrical thing, from the top of Dean’s head to the base of his neck and then right back to the start. It was what Dean needed, the soothing words and the constant movement that Dean could rely on.

He didn’t believe in Cas’ words though. He _could_ have done something to save his parents, to save the guy in the truck that was about to be a father. He didn’t believe Cas, not one bit of it, but Cas’ faith in him helped Dean to settle down. Sobs turned to silent tears, which turned into pathetic whimpers. And then the whimpers turned into tiny sniffles that no one other than someone as close as Cas would hear. And throughout it all, even through the snot and tears being rubbed into his neck, Cas kept on holding him.

“Dean,” Castiel said, “you have looked after everyone for so long. _Please,_ look after yourself for a moment.” He tilted his head so he could rest his chin on the top of Dean’s head, an arm still wrapped around Dean’s middle. “Let other people look after you.”

Perhaps, just fucking maybe, Castiel was right.

 


	8. Chapter 8

“God, how many questions do they want me to fucking answer before I actually get into the fucking room?” Dean mumbled as he stared at the wad of paper in his lap. It was a ridiculous amount of forms. No wonder they’d asked him to come about half an hour before the session to fill in some dumb paperwork. But still, it was loads of forms that Dean didn’t want to have to deal with. He was already on fucking edge, he didn’t need a bombload of questions before he even saw the damn therapist.

“I suppose they’re just being thorough,” Castiel replied, eyeing up the paperwork; he was obviously thinking the same thing as Dean but didn’t want to voice it. Bless him, Cas was doing his best to keep Dean upbeat. He wasn’t exactly cheerleader material, but Dean preferred Cas’ understated support, rather than someone screaming in his face about how well he was doing.

They were tucked into an office on the edge of town, a section of old buildings that Dean had never been nearby in his life. It had taken Cas extra time to find the damn place because neither of them had been there before. They’d circled the area twice before they’d realised the high rise, brick building was actually the place they were meant to go to.

It was unlike the therapist’s office that Dean had tried out at the start of the week (which had been a totally fucking _disaster_ ). That place had been drab and dreary, seats uncomfortable and walls coloured like puke. This one, Dr Missouri Moseley’s office, had more of a comfy, feel at home look, not exactly how Dean thought a therapist’s reception would look like. The ones he’d seen on television in the past had been white and bare looking, scarily clinical. Missouri’s walls had old fashioned wallpaper, and the couches that you sat on while you waited to be called were comfortable rather than making your strain your ass and back. A wall of the small room was filled with bookcases, though Dean was too far away to note down any titles. He swore some of there were titled with fancy, mystical things that Dean was unsure whether they were suitable for a therapist’s office though. God, Dean hadn’t made another mistake, had he? He wasn’t going to go into Missouri’s office and be told how voodoo could heal him?

“I mean, the questions are always fucking weird. Look,” he shoved his pen at one of the first questions, “what does it matter who I have sex with?” he whispered so the cheery receptionist wouldn’t hear.

Castiel shrugged, though a frown was settling on his lips. “They just want as much information as possible so they know how they can guide the sessions especially for you.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, because he got that, but _still,_ “But me having trouble with getting in a car has nothing to do with who I sleep with.” Dean hovered over the printed ‘ _heterosexual_ ’ with his pen, angrily circling it after a beat.

“I guess,” Castiel smiled, humouring him, “I’m sure if there’s any questions you don’t want to answer, you could miss them out. I doubt she’ll turn you away because you don’t want to share everything with her on the first day.”

“Hmm,” Dean half shrugged, “I just hope this one isn’t as shit as Dr Shitty Crowley.”

“I don’t think what was what his name was, Dean,” Castiel hummed, shifting on the couch so he was closer to Dean.

Dean snorted. “It might as well have been. He talked to me like I was an idiot and kept making dumb jokes that I wanted to punch him for.”

Saying that made it sound like Dean was being stupidly overdramatic, but the feeling he’d had in that office had been even worse. How a guy like that managed to get people to _pay_ to come talk to him about their problems, Dean had no clue. The guy had talked down to Dean, even giving him a ridiculous nickname that was so _not_ appropriate to give to someone who was coming to you for therapy. Dean had felt like he’d been judged through the entirety of it, like the guy was figuring out whether he was worthy of joining a cult or something. It was a shock that Dean hadn’t punched him in the face for all the trouble he’d caused him.

“It’s not a surprise that you walked out after five minutes,” Castiel agreed thoughtfully. “Sometimes it takes going to a few therapists before you find the one you like.” He nudged Dean’s shoulder with his own.

“Yeah, but I don’t _want_ to have to go through a dozen therapists before I find the one I actually like,” Dean grumbled, circling a few more things on the page before flipping the form to the next set of questions. “If I have to deal with that, I’m not gonna make it to my perfect therapist, Cas.”

“I know,” Castiel nodded, “but Dr Moseley, she sounds like she might be good for you.” He offered, trying to see the positive. For a man who had dealt with so much shit in his life, it kind of awed Dean that Cas could still see the good in life. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I guess,” Dean mumbled, already doubting it. For some reason, he’d had this stupid thought that he’d go to a therapist, would go to a session and he’d walk out feeling dandy. That hadn’t been the case. And the more he signed forms and waited to go into the second therapist’s office, the more Dean realised that this wasn’t going to be an easy walk in the park. In fact, he’d been pretty dumb to even initially think that after he’d watched Sam struggle through therapist sessions for months and months. _Shit._

They both stayed quiet as Dean completed the forms, grumbling to himself at some of the nosey questions. He hadn’t realised that Sam had had to have done all this shit for therapy. But he wasn’t exactly on talking terms to have asked him before today. For all Dean had known, he thought that he’d just have to turn up and talk to the woman about his problems. He didn’t think he’d have to sit in the waiting room for half an hour filling in bullshit paperwork before he even got to see the damn therapist. It felt like he was paying these guys just to be a nuisance in his life.

There was a sense of satisfaction when Dean finally finished the damn thing. He bundled up the papers and gave Cas a smug grin, proud of the fact that he’d at least completed the first hurdle. For the second time that week, no less.

“Have you finished, honey?” the receptionist asked, a gentle lull to her tone that made it so Dean didn’t want to roll his eyes at the petname. Seriously, people shouldn’t use those terms unless they were a good friend or family member. Or they were fucking. But she meant well so Dean couldn’t hate her for it.

“Uh, yeah.” Dean nodded, standing up before the receptionist could rush around the counter and grab them from him. Dean was getting therapy, he hadn’t lost his fucking legs. He handed the paperwork to the receptionist, who smiled widely. At least it wasn’t a creepy smile that made Dean think he was about to get cut into chunks and fed to the town. So that was a bonus.

“Okay, I’ll send that in for you,” the woman said, so cheery for someone working in a place where suicidal people walked in every day. “Dr Moseley is with another client at the moment, but she’ll be all ready for you at your appointment time, okay?”

“Right.” Dean nodded in thanks, sitting back down after he offhandedly looked at the huge clock that was behind the receptionist’s wooden desk. It wasn’t too much of a wait, but Dean would have preferred to have just gone in there and gotten it over with. Waiting made the urge to get up and run away multiply.

“Guess we’ve got to just wait then,” Dean mumbled to Cas. At least the couch was comfy, his ass sinking into it with ease.

“I don’t mind waiting.” Castiel shrugged. Just like Dean’s last failed therapy session, Castiel had offered to drive Dean to the building. Not only that, but he’d opted to stay for the entirety of the session, waiting for Dean in the aptly named waiting room. Dean had been extremely grateful for that at the start of the week, when he’d rushed out of Crowley’s office, blood boiling as he felt humiliated. He didn’t know what he would have done if Cas hadn’t been there waiting for him to help him calm down.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean told him, wringing his hands together nervously.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Castiel disagreed, “anyone would do this.”

“No, they really wouldn’t,” Dean huffed, wondering how the hell Cas could even _think_ that, especially with all the shit he’d been through in his life. Castiel was used to people treating him like shit; he’d been _homeless_ for five months of his life, he _knew_ not everyone would be down with being someone’s personal free cab driver and then sitting in a random ass office for over an hour so their friend could pour their heart out to a random stranger.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Anyone would not do this,” he shook his head, “so thanks.”

It looked like Cas wanted to argue some more about how he wasn’t doing anything special, but he seemed to change his mind. He murmured a simple thank you and placed his hands on his thighs, rubbing them slightly as if to warm himself up. The weather was still chilly most days; spring was trying to peek out, but the remnants of winter was having none of it. Dean know that one day, the sun would suddenly be out and winter would be a forgotten dream, but for now, winter was winning.

With the weather, Cas was still adorned in a sweater, stretched in the collar by the previous owner or Cas’ crappy washing machine. It dipped low onto the collarbone, making Dean think it couldn’t be doing much good in keeping Cas warm. Dean wasn’t doing much better though, a simple flannel shirt over a plain grey t-shirt. He’d never been good at cosying up for the chilly air; he pretty much refused to wear a coat unless it was torrential rain or some shit and then hated himself for being so stubborn when he was dithering in the cold.

“Are you going to Sam’s after this?” Castiel asked, turning his piercing gaze to Dean.

“Yeah. I figure we should finally meet up, maybe apologise, y’know?” Dean nodded, not wanting to think about it just yet. One thing at a time and all that. After their argument, neither of them had tried to make any attempts in making the first move in talking again. They both had the stubborn Winchester trait. But Dean knew that one of them had to sort this shit out. They couldn’t ignore each other forever. And fuck, Dean _missed_ him. He wished he could have been around the last week so he could have helped soothe some of Dean’s worries about therapy as he’d once been in his exact shoes.

“Fuck.” Dean rubbed his sweaty hands on his shirt, because even though it was chilly, he was sweating buckets. “I hate this.”

“It’ll be fine, Dean,” Castiel soothed, reaching over to place his hand on Dean’s, giving it a quick squeeze. Clearly, he’d only intended for that gesture and then to move his hand away. But Dean didn’t let him. With the few seconds it took for Cas to lay his hand on his, Dean made a decision, twisting his hand so their hands were now slotted together. Dean chose not to look at Cas, not even when Castiel made a small noise of surprise. But then Cas was entwining their fingers properly together, squeezing Dean’s hand in comfort. At that, Dean’s shoulders relaxed.

“You know,” Dean murmured, staring at their joined hands; he was a little afraid at what Cas’ expression might be because of Dean’s proposal of hand holding and what Cas might think after he heard the next titbit of information, “my brother said I was relying on you too much.”

At first, Cas was silent. Dean could practically hear the guy’s brain whirring as he contemplated what he had said. The silence made Dean worry that Cas was going to think that Sam was right, that Dean was relying on him and he needed to take a step back. It was why Dean had taken so long to tell him about it.

“He did?” Castiel asked, a weird tone in his voice that Dean couldn’t quite place to know what it meant.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, still quiet when he explained, “he said it when we were fighting.”

Again, Castiel stayed quiet. He paused and then asked, “And do you agree with him?”

“I don’t know.” Dean shrugged, opting to go down the honest route. “I mean, I’ve never really opened up to anyone like I have with you. Not even with people I’ve known my entire life.” He licked his lips, unsure of how to feel about that.  How Cas could have had such a profound impact on Dean’s life in such a short space of time was a little terrifying if Dean thought about it too much.  

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing, though. You’ve helped me.” He squeezed Cas’ hand. “How can that be a bad thing?”

Just as Castiel was opening his mouth to reply, the receptionist was chirruping, “Dean Winchester, you can go in now.” Dean would never know what Cas was going to say.

“Shit,” Dean said under his breath. He’d been so intent on talking to Cas and trying to figure his shit out, he hadn’t even noticed the previous client or patient or whatever the fuck they were called come out of the office. God, he was so fucking screwed.

Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand. “I’ll be right out here, Dean,” he promised.

“Yeah.” Dean took another breath before detangling himself from Cas, trying not to put too much thought into how he’d chosen to hold Cas’ hand. “Okay.” He said, almost to himself as he stood up. Too busy with getting to the office without making a complete and utter fool of himself, he missed Cas’ encouraging smile.

The office was much the same as the waiting room, cosy and slightly cluttered. Like he was intruding in someone’s home. For a short terrifying moment, he realised it reminded him of Hannibal Lector’s office, dark furnishings and intricate décor. The thought was severed when Missouri spoke up.

“I’m assuming you’re Dean,” she offered from her seat. Shutting the door behind him, Dean nodded, wordless as he moved around the room to sit on the couch opposite Missouri’s desk. The couch was the same kind of leather from the waiting room, comfy and sinkable. Already, it was better than Crowley’s office, which had been hard plastic and wood furnishings for the patient, though Crowley had had a noticeably nice, comfy chair to himself.

As Dean sat down, he glanced at Missouri Moseley, trying to find anything that told him the appointment would be a disaster. Brown skin and dark hair pushed away from her face, she looked friendly, but also like she might tear you to shreds if you messed with her. Perhaps that’s what therapists had to be like in this kind of profession. Caring, but ruthless if necessary. She had a gentle smile at least, with brown eyes that looked like they’d seen an awful lot. And were willing to bore right down to your very soul if that’s what Missouri needed. It kind of reminded Dean of Castiel, making him relax into the couch.

Missouri’s clothes were nothing to write home about, layered in a deep red t-shirt and brown cardigan that complimented her skin, rather than a stiff suit. Automatically, Dean had a feeling he was going to like her.

“Didn’t my girl offer you some coffee?” she asked abruptly.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean nodded, his voice showing how nervous he felt, “but I’m not that thirsty.”

“Right.” Missouri nodded back, like she could read Dean’s mind and totally knew that Dean had declined in case he’d spilled the drink all over him, which would have made him look like a total idiot that _seriously_ needed help.

“Just so you know, if you ever accept the offer and bring coffee into my office, you better be putting it on one of those coasters.” She pointed at the piled up coasters on the edge of her cluttered desk. “Or I’ll whoop your ass.”

The woman was basically threatening him within five seconds of meeting, but it made Dean huff, close to laughing. This was what he wanted, he realised. He didn’t want a therapist who looked down their nose on him and were this cold, calculating person who acted like his problems were just symptoms that needed to be diagnosed and ‘fixed’. He wanted someone who would actually talk to him like a human being. Who would make him feel at ease and not dread his next appointment.

“Now,” Missouri perched some glasses on the end of her nose as she looked down at the wad of files on her desk, “I have all your paperwork here but I prefer to get the info straight from your mouth. Works better that way. And I know what you’re thinking,” she narrowed her eyes, “you’re wondering why the hell I’ve asked you to fill all this in if I was just gonna ask you to tell me it anyway, right?”

“Well, yeah.” Dean shuffled on his seat, already feeling like all the time it had taken him to fill in the paperwork had been a waste of time.

Missouri smiled. “I like to hear it from you, but having the paperwork here helps. This,” she gestured to the wad of forms, “is the conversation starter. And we’ll work from there. That okay with you?” She asked in a way that Dean felt like he might get told off for disagreeing with her. He was definitely getting an aunt vibe off her, the one in your family that took no shit. Kind of like Ellen.

“Sure.” He shrugged. While she was helping him feel more comfortable about the whole thig, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t still terrified to get into everything. Especially the crash, the thing he knew they would talk about the most. He hated talking about his shit to people he was close to, let alone a stranger he was paying, however nice they were.

“So, have you ever been to therapy before, Dean?” she asked, staring at Dean like she already knew the answer before he even opened his mouth. Jesus, she might actually be able to compete with Cas on the staring front. Castiel had a contender.

“No.” Dean shook his head, fiddling with a loose thread of his shirt. “Well, I went to one at the start of this week, but it was shit so I left after five minutes so I don’t think that really counts.” He half shrugged. “And, uh, I went with my brother to his therapy once or twice, but that’s it. I’ve never gone for me. But I found you. I looked at a few other therapists but some people who’ve used you said you didn’t do any of the sappy bullshit so I thought I’d try you out.”

Missouri nodded, looking from Dean to the forms on her desk. “What changed your mind about coming to therapy?”

Well, that was a whole can of worms, wasn’t it?

“My friend caught me on a bad day and he just said that it might be a good idea for me to go to therapy,” Dean explained, sugar coating it to the extreme.

Missouri straight through the bullshit. “Nuh-uh. You said that you liked me because you heard I don’t bull. That means you can’t bull me, it’s a two way street now.”

Dean sighed. He knew it was her job to get to the bottom of everything, but it didn’t stop him from hating to be pushed into talking about things he didn’t want to talk to. “I’d had an argument with my little brother. Like, a big, big argument. I ended up having a panic attack.” He explained bluntly. “I called Cas, my, er, friend, and he helped me through it. And then he said he thought I should talk to someone.”

“And you agree.” Missouri raised her eyebrows.

“Well, yeah, else I wouldn’t be here.” He shrugged, trying his very hardest not to be defensive, though it was a struggle. “Like I said, I tried someone else, but they didn’t work out. Cas said that people can go through tons of therapists before they find the right one. I’m hoping that’s not the case with me though.”

“Your friend sounds like a very smart man,” Missouri hummed.

Dean waved it off. “He’s a genius, but that’s another story.”

And then, Missouri switched the conversation, just like that, just when Dean was starting to relax. “Why did you have a panic attack?”

“I don’t know.” Dean bit his bottom lip, choosing to focus his gaze on the small angel figurine on Missouri’s desk. “I’d had a bad day, I guess. My brother and I had argued about some, uh, deep rooted shit. About the crash that my parents died in, about my brother’s addiction, about how much of a mess I am.” Dean shut his eyes when the sight of the angel, a reminder of his mother, got too much. “I went home and tried to get into the car, the car that I was driving when Mom and Dad died.” His fists clenched as he explained, hating the tremble of his bottom lip. “And I – I just couldn’t breathe.”

“Have you had panic attacks before, Dean?”

“Yeah, but not for a while.” Dean kept his eyes shut, afraid that if he opened them, tears would start to spring up. He’d had enough of crying. “This one was just a fun surprise.”

Missouri was nothing but sympathetic in her tone, but not the annoying ‘ _I’m now going to talk to you like you’re an idiot’_ sort of thing that most people did. “Do you drive this car now?”

“No,” Dean shook his head, opening his eyes as he forced a grim smile, “I don’t drive. At all.”

“Right, okay.” Missouri looked down at the file of paperwork neatly piled up on her desk, “And what about other people driving you? Are you okay with that?”

Dean half shrugged. “Only with so many people. Uh, my brother and his girlfriend, Jess. And Bobby and Jo. And recently, Cas too.”

“No one else?” Missouri enquired. “Besides your close friends and family?”

“No. No one else, not since the crash. Besides one cab drive because my brother was in hospital.” Dean replied. “That’s one of the reasons why I know I need to get some kind of help. I can’t keep living like that, walking everywhere or relying on my family to drive me places that are far away. It’s not fair on them.”

“It’s not fair on you either, kiddo,” she said, shuffling her papers and going straight to the point. “Can you tell me about the crash? When did it happen?”

Dean knew they would have to talk about it. The crash was the whole reason why he was in the damn therapist’s office in the first place. But that didn’t mean it made it any easier for Dean to talk about. He hated talking about it and that was why he was such a mess. But to get out of that mess, he _needed_ to talk about it. He was in a fucking catch 22 and he hated it.

“Uh, six years ago. We were going to my graduation,” he started.

“What degree?” she interrupted.

“Engineering,” he replied with a sigh.

Her eyes lit up in recognition. “You’re an engineer?”

“No,” Dean looked down, “uh, a mechanic.”

Ever since he’d been a kid, he’d wanted to work with machines, loving learning how they operated. It had started from when he’d watched his dad fix up the Impala. He’d felt like his father was some kind of superhero, the way he’d pointed to all the different car parts and knew exactly what they were and what made them tick. Dean had felt even cooler when he’d started to be allowed to get involved. But he’d slowly but surely wanted more. Not just cars, but every machine he could get his hands on. And then Dean had gotten into college. He’d been open to all sorts of machinery, thinking up different machines, working and fixing them up. He’d been in his fucking element.

But then the crash happened. If Dean hadn’t been graduating, his parents would still be alive. Ever since then, the diploma had been stuffed in the bottom of his wardrobe. He didn’t want to think about the engineering degree he’d gotten. He didn’t want to fucking use it because it would just remind him of everything that had happened. So he’d settled with working at Bobby’s garage, privately longing for more, but being too afraid to take that step. It was too late now anyway.

By the look on Missouri’s face, she was going to pick up on that sore spot at a later point. “Right.” She nodded. “Carry on telling me about the crash.”

Dean swallowed. “We were driving – _I_ was driving. And a truck came out of nowhere. It crashed into us head on. I couldn’t – I couldn’t have done anything, they said I couldn’t have saw it coming. I had no time to swerve out the way.” He said, desperate for her, like everyone else, to believe him. Even now, there was a part of him that thought Sam blamed him for the loss of their parents, even though Sam had never said such a thing. “My Mom and Dad died. And my brother was in a hospital for a while. He came out with some scars but he – he was alright. And I – I came out of it fine too. Uh,” he licked his lips, feeling the need to mention the other guy, “the truck driver died instantly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Missouri said softly, papers forgotten as she intently looked at Dean.

“That’s why I’m here,” Dean mumbled, wishing they could stop talking about the crash, anything but the fucking crash, “I guess you could say it fucked me up.”

Missouri leaned forward on her seat, telling Dean to be prepared for whatever was going to come out of her mouth. “Dean, what do you want out of these sessions?” she asked, a question that was so far from easy for Dean. And yet, it was the easiest question at the exact same time.

Dean gulped, tears forming in his eyes. “I just want to be normal.” He put it simply. Because that’s what he wanted more than fucking anything. He didn’t want his friends and family to feel the need to pussyfoot around him, or to go the extra mile because he was a coward who wouldn’t get into a fucking car. He didn’t want to feel like he was about to die every time a semi drove past him on the sidewalk or when he was being ridden around. He just wanted to be a normal person who could go about their normal day without feeling like shit or at risk of a panic attack any second.

“And what’s normal to you?” Missouri asked.

“I want to get in a fucking car and drive it. And I just want to be able to talk about my parents without feeling like it’s my fault that they’re gone.” His breath hitched. “I just want to – I want to be okay again.”

Missouri folded her arms onto the table. “Then we’re going to do everything we possibly can to get you there. But this is hard work, for both of us. You’re not gonna come in here for one session and feel better, it’s going to take time now, time that you’ve got to be willing to give. And it’s all baby steps, not taking some giant leaps forward, because you’ll only up falling on your ass. You willing to do that, Dean?”

Dean didn’t even have to think about it. “If it makes me okay again, I’m willing to do anything.”

Missouri’s lips quirked upwards, like she’d been expecting him to say that. “Okay then, we’ve got some work to do.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you going to walk home?” Castiel asked, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. As promised, he’d driven Dean to Sam and Jess’ apartment, ready to leave him there as Dean (hoped) that he could resolve the argument that had happened nearly a week ago.

“Yeah, it’s not so far from here.” Dean shrugged, feeling nervous at the idea of going up to the apartment alone. He’d already been brain ambushed by Missouri, he wasn’t sure he could handle anything else intense on the same day. He just hoped Sam was ready to sort it all out as much Dean was. He’d missed his brother a hell of a lot; they saw each other all the time, so not having spoken for over a week was bothering Dean more than he would ever care to admit.

Castiel decided that now was a great time to throw in a curveball. “I’m proud of you,” he murmured.

Dean nearly snapped his neck to look over at Cas, whose eyes suddenly widened as he shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry. Am I doing that again, where I say too much and make the other person uncomfortable?”

Castiel had long since mentioned to Dean that people had complained that he delved too deep sometimes, abruptly saying things out loud that perhaps some people didn’t want acknowledged. Dean hadn’t the heart to tell Cas that he’d noticed that trait of Cas’ pretty near to the start of their friendship. Normally, that shit would have annoyed Dean too, but he knew Cas wasn’t doing it to be rude. Sometimes, he just didn’t have a filter. All in all, Dean had gotten used to Cas’ occasional tactless ways.

“No,” Dean huffed, “no, you’re not. Thanks Cas.” He smiled, ensuring Cas knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. “And thanks for everything you did today.” He said, unable to put into words how grateful he was for that. There were a lot of things Cas had done that Dean would never be able to properly thank him for. “Anyway,” he coughed, “I’ll see you at lunch on Monday.”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, “I’m not at work that day, but I’m free our normal time.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded, “see you then. I’ll, uh, call you later to let you know what happens with Sam.”

“Please do,” Castiel smiled, “it’ll be fine, Dean.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, though he wasn’t sure he believed it.

The walk up to Sam and Jess’ apartment seemed to take longer than usual. Dean’s legs appeared heavier and heavier the closer he got. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sort out the row, he wanted the total opposite, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dreading coming face to face with his brother when the last words spoken to each other had been less than pleasant. He wanted the shit sorted, but the in between stage where they had to talk things through? Yeah, Dean wished he could skip that part.

Dean knocked on the door, biting the inside of his cheek as he awkwardly pushed his hands into his pockets. Jesus, he felt ten years old again, going to hand himself over to his Dad, where’d get a play pretend slap on the wrist and the dreaded ‘ _I’m not mad, but I’m disappointed’_ speech.

When the door opened, creaking at its hinges, Dean realised he hadn’t been expecting it to. The front door had a peephole and Sam always checked to see who it was. And Dean wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d saw it was Dean and kept the door nice and locked. The fact that Sam was opening the door was a good first step, right?

Dean attempted a grin, hoping it would hide his nerves. “I didn’t think you’d –“ he realised that it was Jess, not Sam, who was at the door and nothing had been solved yet, “oh.”

Jess chose to ignore the disheartened tone in Dean’s voice, something she would normally hound him for. “Hey Dean, long time no see.” She looked behind her back into the apartment, telling Dean that Sam was inside. “Come in.” She added, gesturing for him to follow.

As Dean expected, Sam was sitting on the couch, who stayed awfully silent as Dean awkwardly stood there with both Sam and Jess’ gaze on him. Talk about fucking awkward.

Jess was the first to speak. “I’m going to give you two some time to talk.” She turned to Dean and kissed him on the cheek, a sign that told Dean she didn’t completely hate him for what he’d said to her boyfriend. So that was one relief out the way. After that, Jess made her way to Sam, kissing him gently on the lips. She murmured something softly against his mouth, which Dean couldn’t hear.

“Thanks Jess,” Dean smiled, though it didn’t feel quite right on his face, “talk to you later.”

Jess gave him a half wave, shuffling off into the bedroom. She was probably going to watch some shitty show on her laptop. Jess had as bad a taste as Sam did. Besides her love of _Dr Sexy MD_ of course.

Without being told to, Dean just went and sat down on the other couch opposite to Sam, who still wasn’t saying anything. He just had a tired, reserved expression on his face, making him look a lot older than he was. It was the exact expression that always made Dean feel bad, because there must have been something he could have done to have prevented Sam from being like this. He just wished he could have sheltered him from everything, protected him. But he knew that wish was unachievable now. Maybe he’d bring it up in therapy one day when he felt more comfortable about the whole thing, the unresolved guilt for letting Sam become an addict.

When the stifling silence got all too much, Dean just decided to go with it and speak. He didn’t know why he chose the line of topic, but he felt like it would at least help Sam to realise that Dean was _trying._

“I went to therapy today,” he blurted, gaze on his hands, rather than Sam. Unlike Cas’, his hands were clean, barely blemished at all. Dean always made sure any grease from work was cleaned off as soon as he had the chance to. The places where blisters threatening to be callouses used to be had all but disappeared; there had been masses of them when he used to at least weekly carve wood into delicate furniture. There were some marks beginning to form on the upper part of his palm, but it hadn’t reached blister level just yet.

That caught Sam’s attention. “Wait,” from the corner of his eyes, Dean watched Sam leap forward on his seat, “what?”

“Yeah,” Dean scratched his cheek, reminding himself he was due for a shave, he didn’t like it when his stubble started to turn into a beard, “her name’s Missouri. She’s actually pretty cool.” He shrugged, itching for a cigarette. “She doesn’t bullshit.”

“I –“ Sam shook his head, apparently lost for words. “Where did this come from?”

“I don’t know, a long time coming, I guess?” Dean tried to dampen it down, not wanting it to be made into a big deal. For now, he wanted it to be kept quiet, only a few knowing. He didn’t want everyone to be in on the secret just yet, not until Dean was completely comfortable with it first.

“Cas helped talk me into it,” Dean added, staring at Sam to note his reaction. He was worried about how Sam would react to that; he still remembered the last time Castiel had come up in conversation. How Dean was apparently relying on him too much, yada yada. But surely Sam couldn’t see anything wrong with Cas actually helping Dean go to fucking therapy?

By the jump of Sam’s eyebrows, he was surprised by Dean’s admission, but he didn’t pry for further details on what caused the final nail in the therapy shaped coffin. Which Dean was fucking grateful for.

“How did it go?” Sam asked.

“Good,” Dean said, “I mean, it was all the intro stuff really. Like, why am I there, what I want out of it, that sort of stuff. I guess that the next time I go, it’ll be more intense, with her trying to ‘fix’ me or whatever.” He quoted with his hands, rolling his eyes at the statement.

“She’s not there to fix you. You’re not broken, Dean.” Sam frowned. “You just need help on some things, just like a lot of people out there. Like me. You just need some help.”

“Because I’m a mess, right?” Dean couldn’t help but retort, hating that he went there as soon as the words came out of his mouth. Dammit, he was supposed to be coming here to resolve things, not to stir up even _more_ shit.

But Sam didn’t go on the defensive. He actually looked a little ashamed, eyes widening in what looked awfully like regret. “Shit Dean, I didn’t mean…“ He shook his head, long hair falling forward to cover his eyebrows. The guy needed a haircut.

“Yeah, you did,” Dean interrupted. “Just like I meant some of the things I said. And I think – I think that’s okay.” He explained, smoothing out his jeans with clammy hands. “But we can’t take it back if we meant it.”

Dean had thought about the whole thing a lot. It was true. He had meant some of the things he’d said. He didn’t trust Sam, not fully, and maybe he never would. But Sam didn’t need to do anything other than just keep doing what he was doing and prove Dean wrong. And sure, maybe Sam did think Dean was a mess who needed to get his shit together. Maybe he did rely on people too much and put them on some kind of unreachable pedestal. But that was why he was going to therapy, to sort that shit out.

Just because they were brothers didn’t mean they had to think the sun shone out of the other’s ass. They didn’t have to have a perfect relationship where there were no problems. Honestly, Dean doubted anyone had that kind of relationship with _anyone._

Dean finally looked his brother in the eye, unwavering. “But I am sorry with how I dealt with it all, about finding out about the whole law school thing. I should have just sat down and talked with you. I could have dealt with it better,” he offered.

Sam nodded, pressing his lips together thinly. He seemed a little in shock at the apology, if Dean was reading it right. Dean wouldn’t blame him for that, the two of them had never really sat down and apologised to each other. They’d always just pushed it aside and tried to forget it. But Dean was liking their new tactic. Who knew talking about shit would actually shovel the shit away?

“I’m sorry about what I said,” Sam replied. “I’ve always worried about you, that’s true, but the way I told you that last week, that’s not how I should have done it.”

At those simple sentences offered to each other, Dean felt like an entire load had been taken off his shoulders. He never liked to argue with his brother, the only bloodfamily he had left. It had made it feel like there was a huge chunk of his life missing, like he’d lost an arm or some shit. They hadn’t argued like that in a long time; perhaps that was why it had bubbled over like that. Most importantly, Dean was glad it was over with and they both knew where they stood.

“You know Missouri?” Dean mumbled, changing the topic back, because there was something he wanted to have Sam’s thoughts on. “She mentioned PTSD.”

“She did?” Sam didn’t look surprised, making Dean realise that maybe Sam had been thinking that about Dean for a while. Just like how Castiel had obviously been considering the idea of therapy for Dean long before he mentioned it to Dean. As soon as Dean had agreed to it, Castiel had brought out a shit ton of information about therapy and the closest therapist in town. There was no way Castiel could have collected that in one sitting.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, fiddling with his fingers, at the ring on his finger that had once belonged to his mother and now resized to fit him. “I just thought that that was some shit that only soldiers got, y’know? But she said that anyone can get it who’s been through some tough shit or whatever. And I don’t know, the symptoms she was saying, it would actually kinda make sense.” He shrugged. “Maybe.” He finished with, not wanting to put certainty on it.

For the entirety of his life since the crash, not once had Dean considered a disorder or anything like that. He’d just thought he was some cowardly weirdo who can’t handle his problems like other people managed to. But then Missouri had explained PTSD to him, how people, after dealing with trauma or whatever, could react the way Dean had. Panic attacks, nightmares, staying as far away as possible from things that would remind them of the trauma, special rules that they put in place to make themselves feel safer. None of it was set in stone, but Dean figured that if he did have something like PTSD, it would make him feel a little less like the odd one out. It had to be a legit thing if loads of people out there had it, right? If Dean had it, it also meant that he would be able to be _helped._

Sam smiled, relief pouring from the slump in his shoulders. He sighed. “I’m glad that you’ve started to get therapy, Dean. I hope you stick with it. You know how much it helped me, so it can help you too.”

“So far so good, I guess.” Dean shrugged, wishing on any and every God out there that it would stay that way. Somehow, he doubted it.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean stared down at his phone with a frown, willing for it to ring. But just like the past ten minutes, his phone stayed irritatingly silent. Instead of heading to lunch with Cas, he was staring at his phone in one hand, and aggressively fixing the car in front of him with the other. What a great fucking time he was having.

“Shouldn’t you already be at lunch?” Bobby appeared from nowhere, making Dean jump out of his fucking skin. Normally, Dean was on the ball and couldn’t be scared by anyone (besides Cas, who had a habit of popping up next to his side with barely a whisper of a footstep), but Dean was too busy worrying to care about his surroundings.

“Hey Bobby.” Dean smoothed it over, hoping he hadn’t noticed that he’d been slacking, though Bobby probably wouldn’t have cared. “You mind if I have a shorter lunch so I can finish my shift earlier today?”

Bobby shrugged. “As long as you’re doing the same hours and same amount of work, I don’t give a damn.”

“Okay, thanks.” Dean smiled, shoving his still silent phone into his pocket as he went back to the car he should have already finished. Bobby nodded, turning to leave him to it.

“It’s just,” Dean continued so Bobby had to turn back to him and listen to his ramble, “Cas is sick,” Dean explained, even though Bobby hadn’t asked him to. “He wasn’t answering my texts so I called the florists and Charlie said that Cas called in this morning because he’s sick.”

“Okay,” Bobby looked at Dean like he was being considerably weird and sharing more than necessary, “what’s that have to do with you having a shorter lunch?”

Dean scratched the back of his head as he turned his gaze to the car underneath him, grabbing a wrench. “I just thought I’d go check on him after work, that’s all. And there’s no point in me having a long lunch ‘cause Jo and Victor aren’t free either. So there’s no point,” he repeated, toying with the wrench in his hands to give himself something to do.

Dean could feel Bobby’s gaze burning him, so much so that he was kind of afraid to turn around and look at him. He had no fucking idea why Bobby was staring him out, but Dean didn’t want to look and see his expression in case it told him why. People staring for that long never meant anything good. Unless you had a crush on them, which, yeah, wasn’t fucking happening here.

After a moment of silence that had the hair on Dean’s neck prickling uncomfortably, Bobby slowly started to speak. “Right. Well, do whatever the hell you want. If you want a shorter lunch so you can go check on Cas quicker, you can.” Bobby shrugged. “It doesn’t mean anything to me. You can do what the heck you like, I’ve always told you that.” He paused for a moment, fiddling with the cap of his hat. “I can give you a ride if you want. Makes it easier for you. His house is on the other side of the damn town, isn’t it?”

 “Yeah?” Dean’s eyes lit up at the idea of not having to walk miles to get to Cas’, which would have added an even longer time for Dean to finally see whether he was okay. “Thanks Bobby.”

“Oh, stop it will you. Get back to work,” Bobby grunted, rushing back to the office so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge Dean’s gratitude. If there was one thing that Dean and Bobby had in common, it was most definitely their willingness not to delve too deep into the soppy shit that Sam so much loved. At least, not the soppy shit where someone was being so fucking _nice_ to you.

Lunch came and went. Dean hurried to the store next door, grabbed a sandwich and gobbled it in one go so he could finish his lunch as quickly as possible. Sure, it gave him indigestion and he barely tasted the thing, but it would be worth it in the end. After eating, he spent a minute or two trying to get through to Cas, to no avail. Surely the guy wasn’t _that_ heavy a sleeper, even when he was sick? Dean still remembered when he’d called Cas early once. Cas had been nothing but grumpy and full of yawns, but he’d answered his damn phone anyway. Not this time.

About an hour after lunch, Dean had spilt oil on the floor, lost his tools, and nearly dropped a wrench on his foot. In Dean’s past experience, dropping a wrench on any part of the anatomy hurt like hell, so at least he averted it. But it didn’t stop Bobby from noticing. Fiddling with his cap, he came over and grabbed the wrench off the floor. He raised an eyebrow at Dean condescendingly, in the most loving way possible of course.

“You still worrying about Cas?” Bobby guessed with a dumb smirk.

“I’m not worrying,” Dean scowled, though he was, in fact, doing exactly that. “He’s just not answering his phone. I mean, he could just be asleep, but still…” He trailed off. The sane part of his brain knew that Cas was probably just curled up in bed, but then there were the annoying parts of him that kept coming up with dramatic scenarios as to what could have happened to his friend.

Bobby stared at him, a cool expression on his face. Dean squirmed under the gaze. And then Bobby was rolling his eyes and huffing up a storm. “Alright, that’s it. Come on.” He grabbed onto Dean’s flannel shirt, essentially dragging him from the car. “I’m gonna take you to Cas’. Take the rest of the day off.”

“What?” Dean tried to catch up. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” Bobby rolled his eyes, halting them at the office to grab his car keys. “I can’t handle your pouting any longer. And I don’t want you to file a lawsuit when you end up chopping a hand off because you’re too busy fussing.”

“Hey, I wasn’t pouting –“ Dean started to reply, indignant that that was a word that Bobby would even associate with Dean. Dean Winchester did _not_ pout. The Winchesters as a whole didn’t. Well… Apart from Sam. _He_ was the King of Pouting, _not_ Dean.

“Yeah you were,” Bobby retorted, turning his attention to a bemused looking Rufus. “You okay with watching this place for fifteen while I get Dean the hell out of here?”

“Sure can, boss,” Rufus mock saluted, “I’m sure I can hold my nap until you get back.”

“I’m working with idiots,” Bobby stated dryly. “Just make sure no one steals anything and I won’t shoot you with the shotgun that I’ve been dying to use.”

“Bobby, don’t be so violent.” Dean nudged him, pretending to be horrified. It was a good job there wasn’t a customer standing there, else they would have been terrified as to what they’d walked into.

“Get in the car before I throw you,” Bobby replied dryly.

Before Bobby could deliver his promise, Dean hastily got into the damn car.

 

* * *

 

“Cas?” Dean nudged the door fully open and took a step inside, hesitating half because he didn’t want to intrude, half because he was having absurd thoughts in his head as to what he might find. No, Cas was _not_ going to have been mauled by a ghost. Get it together, Winchester.

“Cas?” Dean asked again, just about to peer into the living room when he heard a groan. A groan that sounded so fucking pitiful that he nearly started laughing. Following the noise, Dean walked into the living room where Cas was strewn over the couch. The blanket that was normally thrown over the back of the couch was snuggled over Cas, only the top half of his chin and upwards peeking over the blanket. He wasn’t exactly a pretty sight: eyes bloodshot, skin blotchy, and a bright red nose that could easily rival Rudolph.

“Dean?” Cas sniffled in the most dramatic way possible.

“Hey buddy.” Dean bit his lip, trying his hardest not to laugh. Now was not the best of times to get the giggles. “Uh, I just came to check on you. Charlie said you were sick,” he explained, “sorry for just walking in, but I figured you wouldn’t be able to get up and open the door if you couldn’t answer your phone.”

Castiel blinked, eyes crusty and full of sleep. “My phone is over there.” Castiel gestured to the coffee table, which was a mere two feet away from Cas, if that. “I called into work and then lay down and I haven’t moved since because it hurts. I think – I think my phone died too, it hasn’t been making any noise for a while.” He shut his eyes, scrunching up his face in pain. Enough pain to make Dean feel like a total asshole for finding the vision of Cas being sick hilarious. But let’s be honest, it kind of _was_ hilarious. Castiel, the guy who was always so serious and put together, huddled up on his couch with a red nose and feeling sorry for himself.

“Not feeling good, huh?” Dean asked.

“No,” Castiel groaned, hiding his face further into the blanket as he did his best to complain. “It’s the customer’s fault. He was sniffing and sneezing. I thought they were maybe just allergic to flowers but because they weren’t properly using a tissue, I’ve obviously caught it from them. It’s not fair. Why did I have to be the one who –“ He shut his eyes and whined. “It hurts, Dean.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean soothed, realising that he had made the right decision to come early. Cas would have probably dramatically started to dig his own grave and set up a funeral if Dean had left it until after work. Apparently Cas was a drama queen when he was sick.

“Don’t worry, I’m here to help,” Dean offered. He was good at taking care of sick people, he knew the right things to do to make the person feel better. Even someone as grouchy as Cas.

“Okay,” Castiel mumbled.

“You have any meds you can take?” Dean asked.

“In the top left counter,” Castiel groaned, pulling out a meek hand to point towards the kitchen.

“I’m guessing you haven’t taken any yet?” Dean assumed; Cas didn’t look like he’d moved a muscle in the past few hours. Which probably meant he was dehydrated if he hadn’t needed to get up and go pee. Fucking _great._

“Okay,” Dean said when Cas nodded and then promptly started to grumble, “let me go get you some. They should take the burn off. And the water will do you some good as well.”

Castiel didn’t even bother to reply, too busy with hiding under his blanket and frowning like the entire world had done him a disservice. After a generous helping of water and some tablets, Castiel still looked none the better. He complained about how it hurt to swallow the tablets down, then complained that if he drank too much he would have to move to go pee. All in all, he was a grump.

Dean placed the back of his hand against Cas’ clammy forehead. “You’re a little warm, but not too much.” He bit back a smile. “I think you’ve just got a touch of the man flu.”

“Man –“ Castiel frowned, looking worried, “how is that different to normal flu?”

If Dean had been more of an asshole, he totally would have made up some bullshit illness to freak Cas out. Something about how he was going to turn green and grow an extra head. But Dean felt too sorry for the guy to be too mean.

“No difference, really,” Dean explained, not commenting on the true nature of what man flu really meant. “Okay then.” He started to peel off Cas’ blanket, much to Cas’ derision. Dean tried not to laugh at Cas’ pyjamas, a two piece set that had little lions on the pyjama pant. Of course Cas would have cutesy themed pyjamas, _of course._

“Let’s get you to bed,” Dean told him, hooking an arm around Cas’ waist to force him to follow instruction. “You need your rest. Sleep and water are the best things to get better faster. And I’ve got a feeling that with all the whining that you’re doing, you want to get better as soon as possible, right?”

Cas let himself be helped up, fluttering his eyes shut as he finally stood up, most likely waiting for his vision to stop being a blur. “I’m not whining.” he complained, leaning against Dean like a lump.

“Sure, you’re not.” Dean grinned, playing along. “Now come on, let me help you.” He held onto Cas tightly, slowly guiding him up the stairs and into Cas’ bedroom. They had to wait a few times when Cas felt like he might hurl or when he went dizzy, but they slowly but surely made it in one piece.

Unlike the rooms downstairs that had been half furnished but still needed some extra work, Cas’ bedroom was nearly finished. The bed was a large one, wooden but clearly old, scuffs on the wood where it had been manhandled. The other furnishings, a simply wardrobe and chest of drawers and a small desk overlooking the view of the window, were all wooden too, though none of the wood properly matched together.

There were different trinkets on the available spaces, things that made Dean want to stop and investigate to see what they were and whether Cas had a story for them. Perhaps some of them were things that Cas had collected on his travels; Dean would love to hear every story that Cas had. He had a way with words, a lyrical tone to his deep voice that made Dean want to listen to until he passed out. But he knew Cas wouldn’t have the patience to do it right now. It would have to wait for another time.

“Here you go.” Dean hauled Cas to the bed, which was covered in a mountain of pillows, a thick comforter and a fluffy throw for good measure. Screw Cas being sick, Dean wanted to push Cas aside and take the bed for himself. It definitely looked like the most comfortable bed Dean had ever seen, like drown in the softness and forget about every shitty thing in your life, comfortable.

Castiel let himself be dropped onto the bed, quickly burrowing under the covers and hiding his face against one of the many pillows. At least he was somewhat comfortable now, Dean figured.

“Okay,” Dean hummed, “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Castiel mumbled, already closing his eyes and shuffling into the covers. By the time Dean came back up, carrying all sorts of shit in his hands, all he could see were tufts of Cas’ hair sticking out from the covers.

“Cas?” he asked quietly, unsure of whether to wake him if he’d fallen asleep in the short space of time. A normal Cas was grumpy when awoken in the morning, what the hell would a sick Cas be like? There may actually be an attempted murder.

“Hmm?” Cas didn’t even bother to speak.

“I’ve put a jug of water here, and some tissues,” Dean told him, making sure he kept his voice soft and not intruding to Cas’ warm cocoon. “So if you wake up and need a drink or something, they’re right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel yawned, making Dean unsure as to whether Cas was actually listening to a word he was saying.

“If you need me, call for me okay? Your phone is right next to you, so you can call me instead of having to shout. I’ve put it on silent so no one should bother you while you’re sleeping. I’ll just be downstairs, okay?” Dean said, patting the Cas shaped lump on the bed.

“Okay,” Cas repeated with a stuffy voice. Dean nodded, though Cas couldn’t see him, and turned on his heels to go back downstairs. He’d slept on worse a places than someone’s couch, but it wasn’t going to be the greatest of nights. Still, Dean could handle it for one night. He just needed to find a blanket somewhere.

“Dean?” Castiel croaked just as Dean got to the doorway of Cas’ bedroom.

Dean nearly jumped out of his fucking skin. He recovered quickly and looked back to the bed. Castiel was unchanged, still hidden under the covers.

“Yeah, buddy?”

There was a pause and then a simple hoarse reply, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dean grinned, “now get some sleep.”

There was no reply. Within seconds, a soft snore came from the mound of covers. Laughing to himself, Dean made his descent down the stairs. Yeah, sleeping on the couch was going to be shitty. But it was going to be worth it.

 

* * *

 

For moment, Dean forgot where the fuck he was. All he thought was ‘ _this isn’t my home’_ and he was sitting up ramrod straight. But then he looked at his surroundings, the abandoned cat toy in the middle of the floor, the small battered television, the vase of flowers in the middle of the coffee table, and relaxed.

There was a shuffling noise then, probably what had woken Dean, and Castiel appeared in the doorway looking worse for wear. He had the comforter wrapped around him like a vice, hair even messier than yesterday, and the dark circles were still prominent under his somewhat faded eyes. Eyes that looked very much surprised as he realised Dean was sitting in his living room.

“Did you –“ Castiel paused to choke out a few chest hurting coughs, “did you –“ his eyes watered from the cough, wheezing as he took Dean in, “sleep here last night?”

“Yeah, on the couch,” Dean replied, like it wasn’t the most obvious fucking thing seeing as he was sitting on the couch, blanket heaved off him and a cushion had fallen on the floor. Wow Dean, what a way to point out the fucking obvious.

“Dean,” Castiel looked pained, “you didn’t have to do that.”

Dean shrugged, not thinking it was that much of a big deal. He knew Cas would have done the same for him in similar circumstances. Hell, if Dean got a papercut, Castiel would probably fuss over him and inspect the cut himself.

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay. You were kind of in a bad way.” He grinned wryly, wondering whether Cas remember the trueness of his grumpiness from yesterday. “Now, come and sit down. I’ll make you some tea and some breakfast if you want.” He offered, standing up to stretch. His neck cracked, making him wince, and his one arm was dead, but he could deal with it.

“Just some tea,” Castiel mumbled, like it hurt him to tell Dean what to do. Castiel was very much like Dean, used to doing everything for himself, not wanting to ask anyone else to do shit for him. But when Cas was sick, he needed to learn to let Dean do some things for him.

“Coming right up.” Dean patted Cas on the chest as he walked past him. He busied himself with the kitchen. He could hear that Castiel had put the television on, most likely something that Dean wouldn’t like. Sure, they had a few television programmes that they both liked, but cat documentaries wasn’t one of them. As Cas was sick, Dean figured he could give Castiel a pass, just this once.

Having been in Cas’ kitchen a lot now, Dean easily found Cas’ favourite mug, one that had a sad looking kitten with little wings, and the teabags. Humming to himself as he tried to wake himself up, he poured the milk in as he tried to take the sleep from his eyes. His neck ached from where he’d slept funny and sleeping in yesterday’s clothes wasn’t exactly making him feel the picture of cleanliness. Fuck, he’d forgotten how grungy it made him feel after a night out away from home. And this night hadn’t even involved some good fucking sex to soften the blow either.

Dean picked up Cas’ mug when it was ready, taking it into the next room where Cas was dramatically sniffing. “Here you go.” Dean handed Cas the tea carefully, who took it with a murmured thank you.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean scratched the back of his sore neck awkwardly. “You don’t happen to have a spare toothbrush or something, do you? I’m not exactly feeling the freshest.” He frowned down at his clothes that felt greasy from working at the garage and then sleeping in them. At least there were no stains on them that could have transferred onto Cas’ couch. That was something at least.

Castiel looked up at him with wide, slightly bloodshot, eyes. “Oh,” he blinked, “yes. There’s a spare in the cupboard above the sink. It’s the one I was going to use when the one I’m using got too used.” He peered at Dean’s clothes, as if reading Dean’s mind. “You can have a shower as well if you want. And borrow some of my clothes. I don’t mind.”

“You sure?” Dean asked.

“Of course, take whatever you think will fit you.” Castiel sniffed as he took a sip of his tea, pulling a face as soon as he tasted it on his tongue. “Ugh, it tastes funny.”

“Oh god, you really _are_ sick.” Dean pretended to be horrified, clutching his chest. “Maybe we should take you to the hospital, because that shit ain’t normal.”

Castiel gave him the mother of all death glares. “Shut up and go have your shower.”

Dean was still laughing when he got to the top of the stairs. Feeling a little awkward, like he was exploring a place he shouldn’t even though he’d been given permission, Dean quickly rushed into Cas’ bedroom. He hoped he’d find the clothes quickly without accidentally rooting in the wrong drawers. Ultimately guessing which drawer held the things he was looking for, Dean sighed in relief when the top one was filled with plain t-shirts. Not really thinking too much about it, he grabbed a long sleeved t-shirt, pulling it up to look at the sizing. It looked like it would fit him anyway. While Cas was a little shorter than Dean, he was a little wider than him in the shoulders and waist. Well, Dean thought he was, it’s not like he’d been staring at the guy’s body or anything. Not to mention Cas was always wearing thick sweaters so you couldn’t really tell what his true shape was.

Next, Dean went on the hunt for a pair of sweats, finding the jackpot in the bottom drawer that was filled with pyjamas. Ignoring the patterned pants, he grabbed a plain pair of sweats, figuring that they would do. Cas looked like fucking Rudolph, he couldn’t exactly say anything about Dean’s casual dress.

Quietly thankful that he hadn’t accidentally found anything he shouldn’t, Dean went into the bathroom. He found the spare toothbrush easily, happy to finally feel like his teeth were clean after a rough night’s sleep. He kept the shower short, not wanting to leave Cas for too long. With all the whining that Cas was doing, who knew what could happen to him in thirty minutes. Still, Dean enjoyed his shower, singing cheesily as he rubbed shampoo into his hair, letting it lather before he rinsed it away. He definitely spotted the strawberry smell that Cas always had. Now they would match.

There was something about having a good shower that pleased Dean though, it helped clean away all of his bad thoughts as well as the dirt on his skin. After he’d rubbed himself dry with a towel, he threw on Cas’ borrowed clothes, which fitted him okay. They weren’t a perfect fit, but they’d do in the circumstances. It wasn’t like he was going out on some hot date. He made sure to put his own boxers on from the day before (he wasn’t going to borrow someone else’s boxers, that was some weird shit).

Folding his clothes into a ball, he took them downstairs, choosing to pile them up on the bottom step of the stairs so he wouldn’t forget them on the way out. Well, whenever he did manage to leave. He had a worrisome feeling that Cas was going to keep him captive for the next few days.

As expected, Castiel was exactly where Dean had left him. The cup of tea was empty, sitting on the coffee table; apparently, Castiel had persevered and drank it even though he’d thought it tasted vile. God, he could be stubborn.

“Was the shower okay?” Castiel asked drowsily, not even bothering to look away from the television screen to acknowledge Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, “it was good. I’m just gonna grab something to eat, some cereal or some shit. You sure you don’t want anything?”

Castiel shook his head, still holding onto his comforter like his life depended on it. “Not right now, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Dean told him. He ruffled Cas’ messy hair, earning a very convincing scowl from Cas when Dean walked by.

Dean couldn’t help but grin when he saw that Cas’ cereal was the chocolate kind rather than healthy, something that Dean definitely appreciated. If he’d been at Sam and Jess’ house, all he would have found were healthy shit that tasted like cardboard. Even if the packaging was childish as hell, Dean would choose cereal that turned your milk into chocolate milk over healthy any day.

“You feeling better this morning?” Dean asked when he sat down next to a miserable Cas on the couch. Dean juggled the cereal bowl carefully, managing not to spill any of the milk as he settled properly.

Castiel looked at him blankly, sniffling for extra effect. “No.”

Dean snorted. “God, you are the worst patient in the world.”

Castiel took it badly, huddling further into his comforter that he hadn’t even offered to share with Dean, the selfish sick bastard. “I’m sick, Dean,” he grumbled, voice croaking and sounding oh so done with the world.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Sam broke his arm and he didn’t act like this much of a baby. And he _was_ a baby at the time,” he teased around a spoon full of chocolate goodness, suppressing the urge to moan at the taste. God, it was good.

Castiel glared at him. “I’m not used to being sick. I don’t like it,” he said miserably.

 “No one _likes_ it.” Dean rolled his eyes. “What, you’re one of those people who prides themselves on having a good immune system or something?” Dean kept his eyebrow raised as he tried to understand Cas’ frame of mind. Sometimes it was the stuff that Cas didn’t say that was the most important. “Everyone gets sick at some point, Cas,” he said as gently as possible, “it’s just the way the world works.”

“Well,” Castiel sighed, “the world works unfairly.”

“Yep,” Dean agreed, taking a few more spoonfuls of his cereal. Rather than watching the documentary on television that was about some forest in the middle of nowhere Dean had no clue, Dean watched Castiel. Castiel, who kept sniffing and swallowing audibly, apparently desperate to clear his throat. The guy looked miserable. More than fucking miserable. He looked downright depressed.

“Are you really not used to being sick?” Dean deduced.

Castiel looked at him, pulling up the comforter so it wrapped around him more. He looked like a burrito. “I haven’t really been sick for a long time,” he admitted. “There always seemed to be something wrong with me when I was living on the street, but I think that toughened up my immune system perhaps. I rarely get sick, Dean. This is just a one off.” He spoke so sincerely, like he was determined for Dean to believe that Cas didn’t get sick, not really, that this was just some rare occasion that they never needed to mention again. Why Cas wanted him to believe that, Dean had no clue. It wasn’t even Cas’ illness that was bothering Dean – everyone got sick after all – it was the careless way he talked about being homeless, like it was fucking _nothing._

“Okay buddy,” Dean soothed, agreeing to whatever Cas wanted to make him feel better. “But hey, seeing as this is the first time that you’ve been sick in a little while, you need to make up some new rituals to do when you’re sick. Like, having hot cocoa or something. Most of them were dumb and useless, but people still do them.” Dean shrugged.

Castiel’s mouth quirked up into the smallest of smiles. “Do I get to include you doing everything for me in my ritual?”

“I guess so,” Dean rolled his eyes dramatically, “I’ve kind of signed myself up for that, haven’t I?” he complained.

“Yes.” Cas carried on smiling, making his eyes light up for a short moment, a vibrant blue, as if they’d forgotten they belonged to someone who was ill.

“Fine,” Dean huffed, pretending to be pissed about it even though he didn’t care one bit. He liked looking after people, fussing over them until they got better. Especially for someone like Cas, who deserved it more than most.

“Okay.” Castiel smiled, looking pleased with himself before he turned curious. “Do you have rituals for when you’re sick?”

“Not really.” Dean shrugged, wolfing down some cereal to give himself something to do as he thought about his childhood. “I tend to just power through. When I was a kid though, my mom used to make me spaghetti soup. And depending on the sickness, she’d bake me some pie,” he told Cas. Telling Cas more about his parents was a new thing he was trying to do, under the influence of Missouri.  Openly talking about happy times with his mother and father, rather than suppressing it all, would apparently help him as much as talking about just the shitty stuff in therapy.

He still remembered it now, the way his mother used to tuck him into bed or make him cosy on the couch, making him feel safe as she’d hummed _Hey Jude_ to him. A kiss on the forehead always came next, a promise that she was going to take all the germs away and he was going to feel better really, really soon. Even though he was twenty six and far too old to want any of those things, he still wished he could get one of those feel better kisses from his mother.

Castiel smiled at him, a warm one that almost felt like a hug on Dean’s behalf. Castiel had clearly noticed that Dean was being more open about his parents, but he hadn’t vocalised that he’d noticed it. Dean could tell by the smiles that Castiel kept sending his way whenever he made another step with his therapy that Cas was proud of him or some shit, but Dean was glad that he was just letting it be for now. He was trying not to make a big deal out of it because he knew Dean wouldn’t want it to be made a big deal. For that, Dean was grateful.

Castiel yawned, looking apologetic when he finished.

“Tired?” Dean guessed.

“Mhm,” Castiel mumbled. With another yawn cracking his jaw, Cas slumped over to Dean, resting his head against Dean’s shoulder as he fluttered his eyes shut. He rested his weight on Dean, sighing. “When I came downstairs earlier, it was just to see whether there was enough cat food in Aniel’s bowl seeing as she’s home –“

“She’s home?” Dean frowned, trying not to move too much so he wouldn’t jolt Cas. Dean was going to try his best to be the best pillow, he supposed.

“Yes,” Castiel tried to nod, but then stopped when it obviously started to hurt his head, his forehead wrinkling, “she was asleep under my bed the last time I saw her. She must have come in last night. She’ll be downstairs when she realises she’s by herself in the bedroom.”

“You want me to check to see whether she’s got enough food?” Dean asked. It was news to him that Anna was roaming around. He wondered what she’d thought when she’d saw Dean, someone she was still iffy about, sleeping on _her_ couch. On hindsight, Dean was surprised that he hadn’t woken up to her fucking mauling him.

“No. Just wait until she comes down. If she starts making a fuss, I’ll know that she doesn’t have enough food to ease her appetite,” Castiel sighed, eyes still closed. Dean had a sneaking suspicion that Cas was only saying that so Dean wouldn’t move and take away Cas’ new resting spot.

“Hey Cas?” Dean asked quietly, wondering whether Cas was going to fall asleep soon or not. Hopefully Dean wouldn’t need to pee in the next few hours. Yep, he was totally right in thinking that Cas was going to keep him hostage. Dean should trust his fucking instincts more.

“Hmm?” Castiel replied drowsily.

“You –“ Dean licked his lips, unsure of whether to continue or not, “you do that a lot.”

“Do what?” Castiel asked, the frown in his voice clear.

Dean took one last spoonful of cereal before carefully placing it on the arm of the couch. If he tried to move forward and put it on the coffee table, he’d jolt Cas which would cause fucking havoc.

“Mention, uh, mention being homeless. Like it doesn’t matter, not even to you,” Dean said quietly, not knowing how Cas was going to take it. Dean wasn’t fucking blind, he understood that Cas was like him in a lot of respects. Not talking about shit was definitely a thing they both did.

As Dean kind of expected, Castiel stiffened. He kept himself resting against Dean’s shoulder, something that told Dean he wasn’t crossing the line. “Well,” Castiel sniffed, “it’s been nearly six years now.”

Dean frowned, because wasn’t _that_ something, that Cas had shut Dean down for once? And wasn’t Cas the one who had told Dean that years passing didn’t mean things instantly got better?

“That doesn’t mean that you don’t care about what happened to you. That it’s something you should pretend is nothing.” Dean knew himself that years passing didn’t make things easier. God dammit, Dean _knew_ that. And he knew that Cas was dampening things down, just like how Dean always did.

Castiel sighed, silent for a moment. “I’m…” He sighed again, twisting his head so it was more buried against Dean’s shoulder. Dean didn’t miss the fact that that meant Cas’ face was now expertly hidden from him. “I’m very used to people not caring, Dean.” He mumbled tiredly. “I haven’t got many friends, at least not until I moved here. I only really had one before I moved here, one that would want to actually listen to my problems. And she has her own life too. No one else really cared, so I made myself not care either. It’s easier that way.”

It made sense. Completely so. That didn’t make it easier for Dean to hear. Fighting the urge to curse at the world, scream and shout to a God that wasn’t there to listen for giving Cas such a shitty time of things, Dean manoeuvred so his arm was wrapped around Cas’ frame. In the process, Cas had to sit up for a few seconds. He was soon settled back to his previous position though, now with an addition of a small, puzzled frown.

“You don’t have to do that around me. For fucks sake, Cas, I _care,_ okay?” Dean told him, desperate for him to understand, to see that he didn’t have to hide shit from him. To deal with all of this shit alone. Dean knew from experience that that shit ended terribly. “So don’t bullshit me.”

“I –“ Castiel swallowed, surprised at the outburst, “okay.”

“Okay then.” Dean nodded, almost speaking to himself. He had a worry that even after the conversation, Castiel would still do the same thing, tucking his problems away like they meant nothing. But perhaps at one point, when he felt particularly fucking bad, he’d remember what Dean had said and come and talk to him. Not everyone wanted to talk about everything all at once, but knowing that they _could_ talk about it was always a help.

Still resting on Dean’s shoulder, Castiel asked tiredly, nuzzling Dean’s shoulder a little as he got comfortable. “Did I tell you that I took your advice?”

“What advice?” Dean asked with a frown. When had Dean ever given him advice?

Castiel yawned, gripping onto the comforter tightly. “I told some people about my amnesia.”

Oh. That advice.

“Yeah?” Dean pretended to be surprised for Cas’ benefit.

Expertly seeing though the bullshit, Castiel huffed. “Don’t pretend that Jess and Sam didn’t tell you.”

“Yeah, they told me,” Dean relented, “only because you told them that I already knew. They just wanted to tell me so they knew I wouldn’t have to hide anything from them or something, I don’t know.” He tried to explain, knowing he was doing a terrible job of it. He just didn’t want Cas to think they’d been gossiping about him. Because that hadn’t been the case, it had been so far from that. Simply, Sam had mentioned it in passing when they’d last met up. It had been very fucking clear that Cas had relayed a shorter version of the story to them, missing out bits and pieces that he’d confided to Dean. But Sam had just said that he’d wanted Dean to know that he knew. Dean had just nodded. Bobby had turned up then and they’d shut up about it. And that had been that.

“I know Dean, don’t worry,” Castiel hummed, sounding amused that he’d stressed Dean out for a second, the fucker. “I told Charlie as well. I wanted to tell Jo, but I haven’t saw her in the past few days.”

“What did Charlie think?” Dean asked, assuming it would have been a good response from her. Charlie was Cas’ best friend, alongside Dean. Charlie was the epitome of a good person, someone who could make your day brighter. And she was always someone who _loved_ Cas and who would undoubtedly do anything to take care of him.

“She likened me to a superhero.” Castiel couldn’t help but smile.

Dean grinned, happy that it had gone okay, though that wasn’t much of a surprise. “She’s a good egg.”

Castiel leant out from Dean to peer up at him, like Dean had lost his damn mind. “Egg?” he asked slowly.

“Yeah, it’s a saying.” Dean saw that Cas still looked confused so he just rolled his eyes. “Never mind.” He added with a fond grin.

Castiel carried on staring at him some more, still looking confused. Not long after, he dropped his head back on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m glad I told them all. It feels like I can speak more freely now.”

“Good,” Dean smiled, squeezing Cas’ shoulder, “you shouldn’t have to hide anything away, y’know.” He paused, realising how Hallmark he’d sounded. “Oh shit, I’m really starting to say all the cliché things aren’t I? Therapy is ruining me and my macho image.” He joked with a pretend pout.

“What macho image?” Castiel asked as innocently as possible.

Dean’s pout turned into a more genuine one. If it wasn’t for Cas being sick, he’d be shoving him off the couch. “You’re an asshole sometimes, you know that?” He remarked, actually quite proud of the guy.

Castiel hid his smile against Dean’s shoulder. “I do pride myself on that, yes.”

Dean huffed, unable to pretend to be annoyed. “Shut up and watch your damn show.”

The advice wasn’t exactly taken, because not five minutes later, Castiel was snoring into Dean’s borrowed t-shirt. Because the remote control was shoved next to Cas’ other side, Dean had to sit there and endure the boring as fuck documentary and the nasally voiceovers. After a while though, either through unadulterated boredom or genuine interest, Dean started to pay more attention to the show as Cas snored and snored. Learning about how queen bees worked could actually be kind of interesting if you were forced into watching it. Perhaps Cas’ intent for the entirety of Dean’s kidnap was so he could get Dean involved in the dumb documentaries that Cas loved so much.

When the credits started to roll and yet another animal documentary started (Cas must have put it on some kind of documentary channel that Dean never chose to watch) Castiel slumped, falling from Dean’s shoulder to his lap. Surprised, Dean looked down at Cas’ sleeping frame. His head was pillowed on Dean’s thighs, hand reaching forward to grip onto the sweats that Dean had borrowed from him. And shit, Dean couldn’t exactly shove him off and tell him to get a real fucking pillow, now could he?

Having Cas fall asleep on him, to trust him enough for that, was actually kind of nice. Dean doubted Cas had a lot of trust in easily falling asleep around people after living on the street, a place where he would have always had to be on the lookout. His obvious trust in Dean made Dean smile.

Absentmindedly and careful not to wake him, Dean ran his hand through Cas’ greasy hair, smoothing down some of the more unruly strands. When he realised it was a hopeless endeavour, Dean didn’t stop, letting his fingers run from his forehead to the nape of his neck and then back up again. It was a soothing thing for Dean, the constant motion, the soft snores and little hiccuppy breaths vibrating from Cas’ mouth. The way Cas’ was holding onto the fabric of his sweats like his life depended on it.

All in all, Dean could have thought of worse a things he could have been doing in his spare time.

The moment was ruined when Dean’s phone started to blare out, startling him. It was still in the pocket of his jeans that were on the staircase, but the phone was loud enough for the noise to travel. Castiel jolted, jumping up into wakefulness.

“Shit.” Dean winced at the noise, annoyed at his phone for ruining the peacefulness. He didn’t really like quiet all that much, but he kind of enjoyed it when he was with Cas. Especially a sleepy, snoring Cas.

Castiel twisted his body so he could look up at Dean with heavy eyes. Quickly, he put two and two together and realised that he’d been sleeping on Dean’s lap. Looking more than embarrassed, his cheeks turning from ruddy with illness to bright red, Castiel rubbed at his averted eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, blinking heavily, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” His hoarse voice had come back in full force, the usual gravel in his tone now like sandpaper. It made Dean wince.

“It’s fine,” Dean reassured him, hoping that things weren’t about to get awkward and fast. He didn’t want Cas to be apologetic, like he’d done something epically wrong and done something bad to Dean. Dean hadn’t minded one bit.

When Dean finally caught a glimpse of Cas’ face, he couldn’t help but laugh. He snorted loudly, nose crinkling as he forgot about the awkwardness that had just transpired.

“What?” Castiel frowned, a gentle downward curve of his mouth.

“You look like shit,” Dean remarked fondly. Because Castiel did. A lot. Even with Dean’s earlier attempts, Cas’ hair was a state, stuck to his clammy forehead and endearingly curling around his ears. His nose was bright red from where he’d rubbed at it with a tissue, the dark circles under his eyes looked like they should have their own solar system, and his lips were even more chapped than usual. Seriously, he could use those damn lips as sandpaper.

“Dean.” Castiel gave him a death glare, which made it all the funnier.

“Your nose is all red,” Dean told him helpfully, “like Rudolph.” He grinned, chuckling lightly.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Castiel complained, crossing his arms like a child.

Dean still found it hilarious, flicking Cas’ cheek playfully. “But you make it so easy with that grumpy look on your face.”

“Dean,” Cas whined, reaching forward to grab onto Dean’s t-shirt in what Dean guessed to be an attempt at being intimidating. It would have perhaps worked better if it didn’t look like Cas was about to have a coughing or sneezing fit from all the exertion. It only made Dean laugh harder as Cas continued to pout and huff. And the laughing turned Cas into even more of a grump.

“Aw, poor Cas feels sick,” Dean teased with a chuckle and a poke of Cas’ beetroot nose.

“Dean, stop it.” Castiel pouted, huffing petulantly. Which made Dean snort all the more, stomach aching as he laughed at Cas’ expense. It was the hardest Dean had laughed in ages, actual clutching at his sides snorting. The kind that helped you forget all the other shit in the world.

 And then the laughing somehow turned into Dean’s lips being on Castiel’s.

Like Dean had thought ( _when the fuck had he been thinking about kissing Cas?!),_ Cas’ lips were rough to touch. There was a gentle scrape as Dean moved his mouth against Cas’, a tug of the dryness of his lips. Cas’ nose nudged against his clumsily, either through inexperience, or because Dean had shocked them both.

The kiss wasn’t anything hot and heavy. There were no tongues and it wasn’t even long enough to make Dean feel like he had to awkwardly struggle to breathe through his nose. But it was a kiss. A simple press of the mouths, Cas’ bottom lip caught between Dean’s lips, Cas’ hand coming up to cup Dean’s cheekbone. Like it belonged there.

And then Dean realised what he was fucking doing. Like he’d been slammed in the chest with a defibrillator, jerking him into realising that he was _kissing Castiel._ Kissing a _guy._ More importantly, kissing his _best friend._ He was kissing _Cas._

With a broken gasp, Dean was pulling away, horrified at what he’d just done. Not to mention confused. Where the fuck had that come from? What had come over him to just go straight forward and kiss Cas like that? What the fuck had just happened?

Castiel was watching him, eyes wide, mouth still parted, hand still hovering over Dean’s cheek. He looked like he was trying to form words. He was as surprised as Dean.

“I have to –“ Dean choked, scrambling to get off the couch, “I have to go.”

The sentence jolted something in Castiel, who suddenly spoke, “Dean.” He stayed where he was, making no effort to move. He looked spooked, scared to move because he didn’t know how Dean would react. He wasn’t trying to force Dean to stay, to try and grab him. But his voice was pleading, causing Dean to flinch.

Dean promptly ignored him. “I have to go,” he repeated, ignoring that his voice was breaking, hands shaking. His whole body was shivering, like he’d put a wet finger in a plug socket.

“Dean,” Castiel begged hoarsely, “please.”

Dean didn’t wait to see what Cas wanted to say. He didn’t wait to see what Castiel would do. Sprinting, Dean grabbed his clothes from the staircase, holding them tightly as he stuffed his feet into the shoes. There was no noise from the living room as wrenched the front door open. There were no more shouts or pleas from Castiel. There was silence.

With tears sprinkling the corners of his eyes, Dean slammed the front door behind him. Lips still tingling, he didn’t stop running until he was at his own apartment. Legs and feet protesting, eyes stinging, he fell to his floor, bruising his knees. And he wondered what the fuck he’d just done.

This time, he really had fucked up.


	10. Chapter 10

“I did the, uh, the thing you asked me.” Dean scratched the back of his neck, restless on the comfy chair in Missouri’s office. To be honest, he hadn’t been able to sit still for a good week now. He was constantly tapping his foot or fiddling with his clothes or being a general nuisance. He knew why he couldn’t sit still, but that was something he was pushing back into the closet full of shit. The thing was overfilled now, but that didn’t stop him from shovelling more in there.

“The homework thing,” Dean added. He did his best to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the words, though he had a feeling he failed. The fact that he was a twenty eight year old man who was being handled homework in between each therapy session made him feel like he was a five year old again. Especially because the homework was such simple tasks that any other person would most likely laugh at.

Missouri nodded intently. “How did it go?”

“It went okay,” Dean shrugged, tapping his fingers against her desk, “I managed to get into the passenger seat with Cas in the driver’s seat.” Dean tried not to wince when he said his name, but that didn’t stop his insides from curling up. He didn’t even know whether it was through confusion or pure guilt now. “We talked for a little while and then I started to, I don’t know, I just needed to get out of the garage. But it was progress. I guess, anyway.” He shrugged again. Being able to get into the Impala without vomiting was a good step, it was fucking _huge,_ but it was still so fucking _small_ too.

Each session Missouri had given him something to do before the next session. Or at least something he should attempt to do. First it had been getting into the garage with the car, then it was sitting in the car, another was letting someone else sit in the driver’s seat of the impala with Dean in the car too. It all felt fucking ridiculous, like Dean was some pathetic kid who had to have his hand held as he did the simplest of tasks. He just wanted to be able to get in the damn Impala and fucking _drive._

As if reading his mind (something that Missouri always seemed to do, which was weird), she replied. “Dean, I know it feels like tiny baby steps to you, like you’re hardly doing anything it all. But that is not the case. They are massive, massive leaps. When you first came into this office, you couldn’t even look at the car. You couldn’t even talk about it without getting upset. Now you can sit in it,” she smiled, “that’s progress.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean shrugged half-heartedly. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about how much he’d achieved. Truthfully, he hadn’t even wanted to come to the appointment. He’d wanted to what he’d done the past week and hide away. He had too much on his fucking mind to have a decent therapy session where anything would get resolved. He was going to be useless at talking about anything today.

Missouri looked him over, scrutinising him with narrowed eyes. “Something else is bothering you,” she pointed out with a cross of her arms and a furrowed brow. Ah Missouri, never one to shy away from things and pretend she hadn’t noticed the obvious.

Inwardly cursing that Missouri knew him all too well, Dean shook his head and pretended to be ignorant. “No,” he reassured her with a wide, fake grin, “I’m fine.”

Even he knew that was a terrible fucking attempt at pretending to be okay. His voice sounded all wrong, artificial and like he was horrifically about to burst into tears. God, he hated it when his body rebelled against him, causing his throat to thicken and his eyes to be one second from welling up.

Missouri raised an eyebrow, close to sassing him. “Come on now, you’re paying me to listen, aren’t you? You might as well use me for what you’re paying me for.”

“I kissed Cas!” Dean blurted out, eyes widening when he realised he’d actually said that _out loud._ Shit, he’d never intended to even let Missouri know about it, let alone actually _talk_ about it with her. Why did he always blurt this shit out at the most inopportune moments? Jesus fucking _Christ._

It had been nearly a week since the kiss and Dean hadn’t uttered a word to anyone, hoping that if he pushed it down and pretended it never happened, he’d even forget about it himself. Yet there he was, blurting it out like a total fucking idiot.

Missouri’s eyebrows shot up for the briefest of seconds, but she didn’t faint or puke or whatever the fuck Dean had expected.

“Oh,” Missouri hummed, leaning back in her chair, “when did this happen?”

Dean stared at her. She didn’t look surprised, he had to say. Her eyes weren’t widening, she wasn’t clutching her non-existent pearls, or falling to the floor with a shocked sigh. She didn’t even blink. Okay, so that was something.

Dean rubbed at his tired eyes as he realised he was going to have to talk about it all even if he didn’t want to. It was his own fault, he was the one who’d brought it up. He figured he couldn’t run away from it forever, even if he wanted to. It wasn’t like his life had let him forget it either, he’d been battling a cold for the entire week, now resorted to sniffles. And he knew where he’d fucking got that from. Because he’d kissed Cas and – _shit_.

“It happened last week,” Dean mumbled. “He was sick and I was just looking after him or whatever,” Dean explained, rushing it out of his mouth like word vomit; the quicker he explained it, the quicker he could stop talking about it, “and I just – I kissed him. I don’t know what the fuck happened, why I would –“ he buries his face in his hands, miserable.

Missouri was quiet for a moment, though Dean could practically hear her mind churning. Again, she still didn’t look shocked at the revelation. “Have you seen him since then?”

“No,” Dean laughed bitterly, “no, I haven’t.”

It wasn’t for Cas not trying. In the space of a week, Cas had tried calling him, texting him, even tried knocking on his door once. He’d made sure to keep the matter private though, Cas hadn’t attempted to accost him at the garage, nor had he contacted any of Dean’s family to try and get through to him. Like Dean would expect from a decent human being like Cas, he’d been completely respectful. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Dean being a coward and ignoring every missed call and unread text.  Soon enough, the calls had dwindled. So had the texts. And now Cas hadn’t tried to contact him in twenty four hours. Dean didn’t quite know what to make of that.

“You haven’t spoken to him since you kissed him?” Missouri asked. And Dean knew, god he just _knew,_ that if they were in any other situation and he wasn’t paying her to make him get better, she’d be clipping him around the back of the head. For fucks sake, he _deserved_ it. What sort of friend was he to kiss them and then ignore them for a week like it was their damn fault? Dean was the worst fucking friend in the entire world. And the biggest coward too.

“No,” Dean ran his hands down his face, keeping his gaze to the desk and not Missouri, “I just – no.”

“And why did you kiss him?” Missouri asked, smoothing her hands over the desk before folding them. The rings on her fingers and the bracelets on her wrists jingled as she stared Dean out, making him squirm under her gaze. He hated it when Missouri did that, just looked at him until he folded. It was like some magical power she had, kind of like how his mother used to be able to take one look at him when he was a kid and know whether he’d been up to something naughty.

“Dean?” she asked. “Why did you kiss him?”

Why _had_ he kissed him?

“Fuck.” Dean suddenly stood up out of the chair, needing to do something. Pacing would have to do. He didn’t think Missouri would like him to punch through one of her walls or throw one of her special figurines. “I don’t know.” He admitted, pacing back and forth on Missouri’s woollen rug. “I just – we were laughing and joking around and then I just –“ he stopped in his tracks, both the sentence and his scurrying feet, “fuck.” He shut his eyes, defeated.                

Missouri didn’t tell him to calm the fuck down and sit down, she let him pant it out. “Now that you’ve had a week to think about it – ‘cause I’m guessing that’s all you’ve been doing this past week, am I right?”

Dean nodded miserably.

“Okay,” Missouri nodded from her chair, “so after thinking about it, how do you feel now?”

Dean stayed standing where he was, stock still. “I feel like shit,” he mumbled, voice soft, “and – fuck – I miss him,” he admitted, feeling embarrassingly close to tears. “He’s like – he’s my best friend and I’ve fucked it up and kissed him out of fucking nowhere. And then I’ve ignored him like it’s his fault that I fucked up. I just, I don’t know what to do.”

And he didn’t. What was he supposed to do now that he’d kissed Cas? What was he supposed to do now that he’d ignored the guy for a week? Even when the poor guy had tried contracting him? What the fuck was Dean supposed to do to fix all of this? Not only that, how the fuck was Dean supposed to sort his brain out and understand where the fuck he wanted to go from there? Did he want to kiss Cas again? Did he want to never mention it again and just be friends with Cas? Did he want to be Cas’ boyfriend? Or was it just some weird one off that just came out of nowhere and made no sense?

Missouri pursed her lips, considering it. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Please,” Dean murmured, ready to get on his hands and knees and beg for the rest of fucking eternity if it meant Missouri would tell him what to do and how to fix this horrible, _horrible_ mess.

“I can’t tell you whether you have romantic feelings for the boy or not. I can’t tell you how you feel in that big heart of yours, that’s not my job. You need to sort that out for yourself,” Missouri stated.

Dean bit his bottom lip. He kind of wished Missouri _could_ tell him how he felt. He figured Missouri probably had her opinion on Dean’s feelings. Hell, she probably knew more about Dean than he knew about himself. He wanted her to just tell him so he could deal with it and know the next step. Because he didn’t fucking know what he felt. He didn’t know whether it had all been some dumb spur of the moment mistake, or it was the start of something fantastically new. Honestly, Dean didn’t know which scenario was more terrifying.

“But I can tell you that I know you care deeply about him. That’s clear as day and I think it’s clear to you too kiddo.” She smiled gently, a rare thing on her face. Normally it was sarcastic rolls of the eyes or grins at his expense. “So you need to figure your shit out and go talk to him. Tell him how you feel, even if you just tell him that you’re confused and scared and don’t know what the hell you want. I don’t know Cas on a personal basis, besides the tons of stuff you’ve told me, but from what you’ve said, he would appreciate your honesty. He’d appreciate you talking to him and not hiding away. I don’t think he’s the type to get annoyed at you for being honest and just telling him you’re unsure right now.”

“I don’t want to lose him,” Dean murmured, voice ever so small as he thought of the awful idea of Cas fading away from his life. No, he was _not_ going to let that fucking happen. He would beg for a hundred fucking years if he had to.

“You are if you’re going to push him away and never talk to him again, Dean,” Missouri told him tenderly. “If you at least talk to him, you’re making some kind of effort.”

“Yeah,” Dean swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, “yeah, you’re right.”

Missouri grinned. “Of course I am. I don’t get paid for nothing now, do I?”

 

* * *

 

Though the illness had obviously faded, Castiel, for all definitions of the word, looked like shit. Clearly he hadn’t slept, dark circles under his eyes, eyes that were directed anywhere but Dean. He had an oversized sweater on that made him look uncharacteristically small. And that caused Dean to feel even guiltier than he already had.

“Hey,” Dean said, feeling as awkward as ever. And useless. And a dumbass. Normal people wouldn’t have ran off after they’d kissed someone. Normal people would have stopped around to talk about it, or at least talked about it the next day and cleared the foggy, confused air. Normal people didn’t wait a fucking week and then turn up at the person’s doorway like everything was hunky dory.

Castiel stayed quiet. There was hardly any change on his face, but Dean knew him well enough to see that Cas was surprised, a subtle twitch of his eyebrows and mouth. He crossed is arms, almost in self-comfort. When Castiel still didn’t speak, Dean chose to, a lump in his throat forming.

“I’m sorry.”

Castiel’s eyes finally flickered to his face, pain clouding the blue. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, pausing to swallow. He was considering what to do, Dean realised. Probably trying to figure out whether he should kick Dean in the junk or not. Or set Aniel on him to give him a good few scratches and bite marks.

Castiel sighed. “Do you want to come in?” he asked, voice quiet, nervous even. Dean had never heard him talk like that before, like he was worried at what Dean’s reaction was going to be. He was like a scared animal, ready to run away if things got too bad. Because of Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, sighing in relief. Apparently his attempts to not look so ridiculously desperate were already failing. 

Cas nodded back, tiredly leading Dean into the house. Aniel was sitting on the windowsill, meowing shortly when she saw Dean come in, pupils like snakes. Not knowing whether that was a greeting or a simple ‘ _get the fuck away from my owner, you hurt him’,_ Dean chose not to try and stroke her. Instead, he followed Castiel right into the kitchen.

“Do you want a drink?” Castiel asked, his voice sounding so fucking odd. Sure, the guy always had a serious lilt to his tone, a deepness in his voice that some people might mistake for gruffness or uncaring. But Dean knew that the way Cas was speaking now wasn’t his usual way. Dean had never had Cas talk to him like that, so short and closed off. It was throwing Dean off even more so than he already was.

“Uh,” Dean bit the inside of his cheek, worried that he’d ruined everything beyond repair, which would be his own fucking fault, “no thanks.”

“Okay,” Castiel murmured, setting up the kettle for a tea of his own. Tea was comfort for Castiel, his go to response for any fucking scenario. If the world was ending tomorrow, Cas would learn of the news and get the kettle on for a brew.

Anna appeared then, somewhat breaking the silence. She hopped up onto the counter and rubbed her face against Cas’ hand. With what Dean thought to be a sad smile, Castiel scratched her chin. Anna just stared at Dean and he swore it was a silent threat to not hurt Cas anymore. Dean duly noted it, though he’d already promised himself that he would never do abandon Cas like that again. Not ever.

“I –“ Dean started but then stopped. He had no fucking idea how to start the conversation and word how he was feeling. When Dean himself didn’t even know what was going on in his damn head, how was he supposed to explain it to Castiel?

Instead, he opted to go for something more middle ground, something that wouldn’t earn him to get kicked out of the house he’d only just managed to get into at least. “I went to therapy today,” he offered, not knowing what to do with his hands. He crossed them and then uncrossed them, worried that it would make him look intimidating or something. Even though he was closed off, he didn’t want Cas to think that. “Uh, thanks for calling Sam and making sure he drove me there.”

Castiel pointedly didn’t look at him, too intent with swapping his attention to the kettle boiling over and his precious cat. “I just wanted to make sure you still had a way to get there. I didn’t know whether you would ask him or not.” The kettle clicked to show that it was finished at the same time that Castiel continued to mumble, “I knew you wouldn’t have wanted me to give you a ride. You made that quite clear.”

Just two simple sentences had Dean reeling and feeling like the shittiest friend he could ever be. Especially to Castiel, who’d proven countless times that he wasn’t used to having friends. Dean had been his first best friend that he could actually _remember_ and lo and behold, Dean had fucked it up. Castiel, the man who was used to being alone, had suddenly became exactly that all over again because of Dean. Fuck, Dean might as well have kicked him to the curb.

“Fuck, I’m really sorry, Cas,” Dean blurted, heart thumping hard in his chest. “I shouldn’t have…” His voice broke, finally jolting Cas into looking at him. “Fuck. I handled all of this so fucking wrong. I shouldn’t have left the way I did. Or ignored you. I really shouldn’t have ignored you, Cas.” He shook his head, hands curling into self-deprecating fists. He wished he had the ability to punch himself in the face. “I’ve been the worst fucking friend I could be to you. And I’m sorry. I don’t apologise all that much, but I am for this, because you deserve an apology, okay? Ignoring you like you’d done something wrong and just – I’m sorry.” Dean ran his hand down his face, feeling each callous rub against him. “Please don’t hate me,” he muttered, “but I’d get it if you did.”

Any animosity on Cas’ features, any part of him that was closed off, suddenly dissipated. Confusion flooded his features, as well as a sadness that Dean couldn’t define, couldn’t understand. Cas should be angry with him, not sad.

“Dean,” Castiel forget about the tea, forgot about a disgruntled Anna, forgot about everything else but Dean, “I could never hate you.” His hands gripped the kitchen counter beneath his fingers, like it pained him to even consider the idea. “Yes, you haven’t exactly dealt with the situation all too well and ignoring me –“ Castiel licked his lips and sighed dejectedly, “it hurt me.” He looked up at Dean, serious. “But I forgive you.”

Dean blinked. “You do?” he asked cautiously. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy. Nothing was ever this fucking easy. People didn’t just forgive people, just like that. Not in Dean’s experience.

Castiel’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Of course I do.” His shoulders sunk.

“Okay,” Dean nodded, licking his dry lips, “good. Thank you.”

Dean couldn’t put into words how fucking relieved he felt. It might have seemed like he didn’t think that it was a big deal by looking at his exterior, but on the inside, Dean was a fucking mess. He didn’t know whether to cry in relief or fist bump the air that he hadn’t completely ruined everything. Because having no Cas around in the past week had _sucked._ It had been like there was a gaping hole missing in Dean’s life that he hadn’t thought he’d be able to get back. Since the crash, Dean had never been good at losing people, especially when it was his own making. Losing Cas for only a week had hurt him in more ways than one.

“I do regret it, y’know? Running off and ignoring you,” Dean offered quietly.

Castiel poured the hot water from the kettle into his mug. “I know.”

“Yeah.” Dean sighed, scratching his cheek.

Castiel went back to his tea, pouring the milk in. “I –“ he hesitated, keeping his gaze focussed on the mug, “is there anything else you regret?” he asked, voice carefully controlled.

Dean’s heart skipped, hands going clamming when he realised what Cas was getting at. “Are you asking me whether I regret kissing you?” His throat went scratchy, swallowing more than necessary as he tried to wet his throat and not feel like he was about to vomit.

Castiel paused his stirring of the tea, a clang of the spoon and a tiny splashing noise as it hit the bottom of the cup. He took a shaky breath in and out, almost to give himself courage to look Dean in the eye. “Yes,” he replied, simply and straight to the point as ever. Dean wished he had Cas’ brazenness.

And that was the million dollar fucking question wasn’t it? _Did_ Dean regret it? If he could go back and prevent the kiss from happening in the first place, would he scramble through that time machine and stop it? Or would he rush back to instead make it so there were _more_ kisses and prevent himself from running away like a scared little boy?

He thought back to the kiss, how he’d surged forward and brushed his lips against Cas’ like it was a normal occurrence between the two of them. How Cas’ bottom lip had been trapped between his two. The gentle scrape of Cas’ chapped lips, of the scruff on his cheeks. How Cas had cupped Dean’s face with his hand, like he was made of delicate glass. The look on Cas’ face when Dean had broken them free – for that small instance before Dean had freaked out – had been surprise and maybe even wonder. Like that Cas had maybe wanted to kiss Dean just as much as Dean had wanted to kiss him.

“No,” Dean realised with an alarming clarity, “I don’t – I don’t regret that.” He paused, eyes widening and heart stopping for a moment. He didn’t regret kissing Cas. He didn’t want to go back and stop it from happening. He wanted to kiss Cas again. And again. And again.

He found himself smiling when he finally figured out what he’d been constantly thinking about for the past week. All it had taken was to see Cas again and suddenly, he just _knew._ It didn’t matter that Cas was a guy, or his best friend. It didn’t matter that Cas loved to watch deer documentaries while Dean didn’t. It didn’t matter that Cas liked tea and Dean liked coffee. None of it fucking _mattered._

He wanted to kiss Cas again.

Castiel’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting the answer. Suddenly, his face broke into the most beautiful grin that Dean had honestly ever seen. And then Dean realised with another easy clarity that Castiel wanted this too. For all of Dean’s internal worrying, he hadn’t even thought about what Cas felt for him. He’d been too caught up wondering what he wanted himself. The bashful smile on Cas’ face told Dean that he never needed to consider it anyway.

“Stop looking so damn pleased with yourself,” Dean complained, feeling his heart get lighter and lighter the more Castiel smiled. Everything was suddenly lost and forgotten. All the worries of the last week, the indecisiveness, the self-torture. It was all gone.

Castiel ducked his head down. “I’m not,” Hhe replied, though Dean could hear the smile in his voice, almost like a song to Dean’s ears.

“You seriously are.” Dean laughed, leaning against the kitchen counter. It was like a whole weight had been lifted. And he didn’t quite know what to do now that he was, dare he say it, actually happy?

“Well.” Castiel raised an eyebrow, play arguing. “You’re smiling too.”

And Dean was. He felt like he might actually break his face if he carried on down the route he was going. Dean chucked again. The laughter was infectious. The wrinkles in the corners of Cas’ eyes crinkled, nose wrinkling too in that endearing way he did when he was feeling particularly happy.

Dean bit his bottom lip, hesitating. “C’mere,” he mumbled.

Completely forgetting his tea now, Castiel took the few steps to Dean, looking determined but anxious. They were a few breaths away from each other. Dean bit the inside of his cheek, gaze falling to Cas’ pink lips. With a shaky breath, he slid his shaking hands around Cas’ waist to pull him in closer. They weren’t as close as Dean dared to make them, a small gap between their chests that Dean was too afraid to close right now. This was still very new to him, being this close to a man, this close to _Cas._ He didn’t know how far he could take it just yet.

Castiel let himself be pulled close, leaning forward so their foreheads were pressed together. This near to each other, Dean went cross eyed. To save him looking like an idiot and getting dizzy, he shut his eyes. By the feel of fluttering eyelashes, Castiel did the same, sighing as he reached over and grabbed a fistful of Dean’s plaid shirt.

“Can I –“ Dean felt nervous all of a sudden, heart beating to the max so much so he wondered whether he was having a legit heart attack, “can I kiss you?”

Castiel took a shaky breath in and out, snaking his hand up to cup Dean’s jaw, just like he had with their first kiss. “Are you sure –“ he bumped their noses together, accidental or on purpose, Dean wasn’t certain, “are you sure you want this?”

Instead of replying with words, Dean chose to go down the action route. He was always better with showing rather than speaking after all. The saying was actions speak louder than words, right?

Dean leant forward, only the tiniest of amounts, and then their lips were pressing against each other. At the touch of their lips, Castiel let out a satisfied moan, like he’d been waiting for this for a really long time. Or it was Dean who made the noise, he wasn’t sure. Their lips slotted against each other near perfectly, though there were a few awkward nose bumps as they tried to find their way. Dean kind of liked those things in a kiss though, the little imperfections and mistakes, things that would most likely fade over time when they learnt each other’s mouths like the backs of their own hands.

Kissing a guy wasn’t odd, he realised. There was nothing weird about kissing Cas, someone who had scruff and a strong jaw. It wasn’t strange to have a thicker, less curved, body underneath his fingertips. It wasn’t scary to hear a guy moan into his mouth instead of a high pitched one. Nothing about it made him feel uneasy. _Huh._

His fingers dug into Cas’ waist, pulling him in even closer so their chests were finally touching. Following suit, Cas’ other hand came up, both hands framing Dean’s face as he gently nibbled at Dean’s bottom lip. At the sensation, Dean decided to hell with it and let his tongue roam, licking the seam of Cas’ lips. Almost instantly, Castiel understood and opened his mouth, replying to Dean’s tongue with a gentle flick of his own.

When Dean started to feel like he was suffocating, either because of the longevity of the kiss or the sheer realisation that he was kissing Cas, he broke free. This time though, he didn’t run away, merely grinned lazily as Cas booped their noses together.

“That –“ Castiel sighed in a way that showcased he was very much weak at the knees, “that is very enjoyable.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah.” He grinned at the obvious statement.

And then they were kissing again. A gentle back and forth between them; there was no fight as to who should take control, each taking turns. Nips at the other’s bottom lip, or a catch of the other’s mouth as they tried to contain their smile.

“Mm,” Dean hummed happily, running his fingers up and down Cas’ sides now that he was growing more and more confident. “I thought it’d be weird, kissing you –“ He watched Cas’ face fall into impending darkness of hurt. “No, I don’t,” Dean’s eyes widened at the connotations of what he’d just said, “shit, I don’t mean I thought you were gonna be a shit kisser or something and that’s why I thought it’d be weird. It’s just – I’ve never kissed a guy before.” He admitted awkwardly, even though he knew Cas already fucking knew that. “But,” he frowned, “it’s not weird.”

It was a strange realisation, to figure out that after twenty eight years of living as what he believed to be completely straight, he actually kinda liked a _guy._ And more than kinda liked. As in, really fucking _liked._ Dean had no clue how that fucking worked. He’d always thought that people were born a certain way and everyone knew who they were from the get go. But there he was, Cas in his arms, realising that he wasn’t as straight laced as he’d initially always thought. He didn’t know what that made him now, kissing Cas and fucking _enjoying_ it, but he’d deal with that another time. One thing at a time and all that. Maybe he’d give Dorothy a call. She would probably have a hell of a lot of words of wisdom for him. Obviously the whole sexuality thing was more complicated than Dean thought.

“Dean.” Castiel smiled coyly, nudging their noses together. “Stop talking and kiss me again,” he darted his tongue out of his mouth, wetting his lips, “please.”

“Not gonna say no to that.” Dean grinned, still grinning when he pressed their lips delightedly together. It was weird to think that not thirty minutes ago, he was a complete mess not knowing what the fuck he wanted. And now he was kissing Cas and enjoying every second of it. Dean’s life was fucking confusing.

The kiss, however, was interrupted when there was a sudden, somewhat terrifying growl.

Dean leant back and raised an eyebrow. “Hungry?”

Castiel’s cheeks burned red as he shrugged. “I was going to make myself lunch and then you knocked on the door,” he tried to explain.

“Hey,” Dean’s eyes lit up, “I’ll make you something. It’s the least I can do.”

Castiel wasn’t exactly as excited at the prospect as Dean expected him to be. “Dean,” he shook his head, gazing at him intently, “you don’t need to keep doing that. You’ve apologised and I’ve accepted it. It’s finished. You’re forgiven.”

Dean frowned. He wasn’t used to this shit, of someone handling an apology this way. He was used to the usual of people keeping grudges and throwing it back in his face fucking years later. Apparently that wasn’t how Cas dealt with things.

“Okay,” Dean said slowly, trying to understand, “but that still doesn’t mean I can’t help you with making lunch, does it? What do you want?”

Castiel squinted at him, but seemingly ended up being satisfied with the answer as he smiled. “Just a sandwich,” he said, pulling back from Dean regretfully.

“Okay,” Dean rubbed his hands together, “then I’m gonna make you the best sandwich ever,” he announced. One thing he was good at was making the best fucking food possible. He knew it and so did Cas.

Castiel laughed, rubbing a hand through his hair. He, too, was completely different to only minutes ago. When Dean had first turned up, Castiel had been reserved and miserable. Apparently a load had fallen off both of their backs today. As Dean went to grab what he needed, he saw Castiel swallow in the corner of his eye, pausing for a quiet moment to wondrously place his index finger on his bottom lip. Almost like he was repeating in his mind at what had just happened.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, half afraid that Cas was going to change his mind and turn him down, kick him out of the house and never fucking see him again. Even now, even with the forgiveness, Dean was still expecting it. His back stiffened as he waited for the terrible inevitability.

“Perhaps we can talk some more when we sit down and I eat?” Castiel offered. “I feel like we haven’t properly talked yet. About what this means and what we both want.”

Dean gulped dryly, nervous again. “Okay,” he murmured.

Almost noting Dean’s defences going up, Castiel didn’t say anything more other than to playfully point out what Dean was supposedly doing wrong, even though they both knew that Dean was going to make a damn near perfect sandwich. If not _the_ perfect sandwich.

Soon, they were settled onto the couch. Dean fiddled with his hands, terrified about their impending talk that he was probably going to fuck up. Castiel apparently had no such worries as he devoured his food, moaning blissfully at the first bite.

Dean watched him fill his cheeks like a hamster. Okay, an emotional talk wasn’t going to fucking happen when Cas looked like that. “I can’t have a serious conversation when you’re munching on a sandwich like that,” he complained with a roll of his eyes, “eat and then we’ll talk.”

Still with food stuffed in his cheeks, Castiel managed a simple, “Okay.”

“God, you’re a dork.” Dean rolled his eyes affectionately. Because seriously? Of all the guys out there, Dean had chosen Cas to be the first one he wanted to kiss. Cas, the giant ass dork. _The_ biggest dork.

“I’m just gonna go pee, I’ll be back in a sec,” Dean announced, getting up.

“Okay,” Castiel replied, mouth full.

Dean tried to waste as much time in the bathroom, fiddling with the extra toothbrush he’d borrowed that was still in the toothbrush holder. And then he wasted time replacing the toilet paper even though it didn’t need to be replaced just yet. And he spotted Aniel on the stairs, who’d followed him up, so he spent a good while pretending that she didn’t hate him as he tried to stroke her.

But he couldn’t exactly hide out forever, else Cas would think he was doing something entirely different to peeing. Worse, Cas might assume Dean had upped and left again.

Pulling himself together, he bounced down the remaining stairs, eyes bugging out when he realised Cas had nearly eaten the whole damn sandwich. Okay, Dean had taken his time, but he hadn’t been gone _that_ long.

“What, did you wolf it down?” Dean asked, half amazed, half horrified as he sat back down next to Cas. One of the very many talents of Cas was that he was good at eating his food fast. But that eating session must have been some kind record. Of course, Castiel didn’t bother to reply to him, too intent on finishing off the sandwich. The more Dean thought about it, the more it made sense. Cas had been homeless for a year after all; it made sense that even after having food on hand now, he’d still scarf it down in case it all went away again.

Feeling the urge to somehow touch Castiel, a hand on the knee or an arm around his shoulder, Dean started to fidget with his hands. The more he thought about him and Cas, the more he realised that the signs had kind of always been there. At least for a while now anyway. Hell, he’d let Cas give him a ride. He’d been the one he called when he’d been having a panic attack, the one to talk him into going to therapy. The one who’d helped him with most of his therapy homework. As of late, Dean had been vulnerable enough to break down in front of him and cry into his damn neck, had held his hand before his first therapy session, and held onto Cas’ wrist like his life depended on it when they’d got back into the Impala for the first time. Dean had always been an affectionate person to the people he loved, but it took a while for people to get into that circle. But Cas had been put in there almost instantly. Shouldn’t that have fucking told Dean something?

“Just fair warning,” Dean scratched his cheek awkwardly, “I’m not really good at these kind of talks, like relationship talks or whatever. Honestly, I’m kind of shit at relationships period so…” He trailed off with a shrug, feeling like it was only right to warn Cas before anything happened. That was if Cas wanted anything else to happen.

Castiel swallowed down the bite. “I don’t think that’s true,” he remarked.

Dean snorted derisively. “Really? My last relationship was a few years ago and she ended up breaking up with me because I was such a mess. She tried to make it work, she did, but I wasn’t exactly easy to deal with.”

And that was an understatement. Lisa had been nothing short of amazing, dating Dean even though she knew he had issues to say the least. There had been days where Dean would hardly even speak to her, too busy with drinking and feeling sorry for himself. Lisa had tried, god she’d _tried,_ but she was supposed to be his girlfriend, not his psychiatrist. In the end, she’d called it off, promising that if Dean ever needed her in the future, he could reach out, but they couldn’t be a couple anymore. Looking back, Dean kind of found it amazing that she’d managed to stick by him for so long.

“How long ago was that?” Castiel asked, taking the last bite of his sandwich with a satisfied smile.

Dean thought back. “Four years ago? Four and a half?” He shrugged, unsure. He knew it hadn’t been long after Sam had come out of the rehab facility anyway. “I haven’t properly dated anyone since then. I just – I guess I gave up. Never really found anyone anyway,” he muttered.

Castiel put down the plate onto the coffee table. “Is that –“ he paused, fiddling with the plate as if he was trying to get it parallel with the edges of the table, “is that what you want to do with me?”

“What?” Dean frowned. “To date you?”

Castiel half shrugged as he sat back down on the couch. He glanced up at Dean. “Yes.”

Dean considered it. Is that what he wanted? To date him?

Well, Dean wanted to continue to be able to kiss Cas and maybe more stuff in the future when he knew how the fuck that worked. He wanted to maybe hold Cas’ hand when they hung out, and not just because Dean was having another panic attack or meltdown. He wanted to watch more stupid movies with him that Cas always complained about because they were never really realistic. And maybe when they watched, they could sit even closer than they normally did.

And fuck, he really wanted to kiss the guy again.

“I –“ Dean swallowed, “yeah.”

Castiel watched Dean for a moment, eyes clear as he commented, “You don’t seem completely sure.”

“No, I am,” Dean backtracked, reaching forward to desperately grab onto Cas’ hand. “I mean, this past week I’ve been trying to figure out my shit and see what I want. Even this morning in therapy, I still didn’t know what the fuck I wanted. But,” he licked his lips, “being here and seeing you and being –“ he huffed, biting the inside of his cheek, “being able to kiss you again. It just made – it made me realise that I – shit.” Dean shook his head with a sigh. “I told you that I’m shit at this, didn’t I?”

Castiel watched him, gaze softening. He leant forward and pressed a barely there kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth. “You’re a lot better at it than you realise.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, breathless at the shortest of kisses. God, he was so fucking screwed.

“Yes.” Castiel nodded, squeezing Dean’s hand supportively. “I get that this is all very new to you, Dean. Wanting to – being with a man.”

Dean bit the inside of bottom lip, dragging his teeth against the fleshy skin.

“I understand that. And I understand that it might take you a while to get your head around it all. But I have to say, I have to make it clear, that I won’t be your secret. I don’t mind keeping it between the two of us for now, while we sort it all out. I don’t mind that, in fact I think it might be good for us to figure it all out before we let other people influence it all. If that makes sense. But I don’t want it to be a secret forever. I’m not saying that that was your intention, but I just wanted it to be known now.”

Dean hadn’t even thought about everyone else yet. Nor at what their reactions would be. Honestly, right now he didn’t even want to think about that. He just wanted to deal with the important shit first, about he and Cas and their new steps. But he got why Cas was bringing it up and making it known.

“Good.” Dean nodded, smiling even though his heart was fluttering. “I wasn’t planning on it being a secret anyway. I mean, I might just need a little while to sort my shit out before I can explain my shit to other people,” he huffed, “but I’m not going to keep you my dirty secret or anything. I figure people are gonna know when they know. I’m not saying we should throw a ‘Cas and Dean are together and Dean is maybe bi’ party, but I’m not saying we should hide anything either. I’m not gonna do that to you, okay?”

The worry in Cas’ eyes relaxed. “Okay.” He nodded, seemingly content with that answer, at least for now.

“So, does that mean we’re dating?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded fondly, a smile breaking free. “I think it does.”

Dean bit his bottom lip. “Exclusively? I’m not saying I have any plans to hook up with anyone and I’d like to think you’re not either.” Dean grinned wryly, nudging Cas’ thigh with their joint hands. “I just want to make sure. It’s always good to make sure we’re on the same page and all that.”

Castiel didn’t even need to think about it. “Yes,” he agreed, “exclusively.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Just thinking about Cas kissing someone else made funny things happen in his stomach. Ah, perhaps that was what it had been when they’d been at that damn gay bar and he’d been asking Cas whether he had the hots for anyone. Okay, some things were making a hell of a lot more sense now that he was actually using his fucking brain.

“Good.” Dean nodded.

“Dean?” Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand. “I don’t mind taking things slowly. Actually,” his tongue darted out to wet his pink lips, “I think it would be good for both of us.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean sighed in relief all over again, pleased that that would be the route they were taking. He knew for sure that he wasn’t ready to go all the way with a guy right this minute. Sure, he wanted to date Cas, wanted to kiss him, but this was all startlingly _new._ He’d never wanted to do that with a guy before, not that he fucking remembered anyway, and feeling a solid body underneath his hands rather than a soft, curved one was going to take some adjusting. It was just like the time when one of his first ever girlfriends had told him that they should lose their virginity together. Dean had been fucking _terrified._ He’d loved kissing her and holding her hand and going to third base. But the idea of being naked with her had been something that he knew he wouldn’t be able to deal with just then. So he’d put up excuses until he’d ended up dumping her because he knew he wasn’t going to be ready for that just yet. Everything like that, something new and intimate, was always something that people had to build up to.

“We’ll just take things as they come. At our own pace.” Castiel smiled, wrinkles forming in the corners of his eyes.

“And kiss a lot,” Dean offered with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Castiel huffed. “Yes.” He promised with a seal of a gentle kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

“Hey Sammy.” Dean grinned down the phone as he walked, a slight spring to his step. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Sam replied, sounding apologetic, “I just realised we never figured out when I was gonna come around yours. Y’know, so I can give you a ride to Victor’s dumb birthday party thing?”

“Oh,” Dean frowned, realising his mistake, “uh, you don’t need to.”

Obviously that comment confused Sam, Dean could just picture the puzzled frown on his face. Sam hated it when he didn’t know things. “Why, are you getting a ride from – wait,” Sam paused, “I thought Jo was going in Victor’s car?”

“She is?” Dean asked, surprised. Huh, maybe they were finally going to make a move on each other, it was about fucking time. Victor’s birthday would be as good a time to do it as any. “No, I’m not going with her.” Dean swallowed, trying to act normal, not like it was an epically big deal. If he put too much emphasis on it, Sam would see right through him. While Dean would get over Sam knowing about him and Cas if he did find out, Dean couldn’t help think it was all a bit too soon at the moment. “I’m going with Cas.”

There was a silence on the phone, enough to have Dean’s heart thump as he walked. He could hear all the confused questions that Sam was silently screaming at him. Dean didn’t really blame him for it. When your older brother, who only trusted very few people in his life to give him a ride, suddenly announced that he was getting in a car with someone he’d only known for a few months – yeah, Dean could understand why Sam might be confused on the whole matter.

But then again, for someone so smart, Sam could be a real dunce sometimes. How the hell did he think Dean had been managing to get to therapy all these fucking times, besides the one time he’d given him a ride? Honestly, Sam could be an idiot.

“Oh,” Sam said, voice slow and far too casual. “Okay.”

Feeling awkward, Dean chose to just finish the damn call there and then. “So I’ll see you at the ranch thing.” He finished with, hoping Sam would go with it and not start throwing question after question at him. Today was supposed to be a good day, not one where Dean would be squirming around as he tried to explain shit.

Sam took another moment to reply, pausing before finally fucking replying. “Okay,” he relented, “I’ll see you there.”

“Bye,” Dean replied, hastily cutting the phone off with a wince. Great. Sam was definitely going to question him on the whole thing the next time he had a chance. As long as he waited until they were alone, Dean supposed he could try and fumble out an answer that didn’t include ‘ _I’m letting Cas give me rides because I’m dating him’._ Maybe.

Doing his best to push it out of his thoughts because nothing could be done about it right now, Dean found himself smiling when The Blooming Place came into view. He opened the door, grinning at the bell ringing to announce him.

As expected, Castiel was standing next to the counter, finishing off a bouquet before his shift was over. It wasn’t like one of Cas’ usual pieces, this one had obviously been a requested one. Rarely did Castiel like to use roses in his bouquets, always complaining that they were too cliché and all that.

“Hey,” Dean said.

Castiel stopped his one way staring match with the flowers and looked up, face breaking into a grin. Little wrinkles formed in the corners of his eyes as he smiled gummily, arguably Dean’s favourite smile of Cas’. “Hello Dean.”

“You ready to go?” Dean asked, awkwardly moving a little closer to Cas, but making no deliberate effort to kiss the man. They’d been dating for a week and things were still in the awkward stage where Dean would sometimes forget they were actually together, that he was allowed to _kiss_ Cas. PDA wasn’t exactly their thing anyway, it seemed. They kept things private between the two of them, rather than flaunting it wherever they were. Even when they were alone, they just settled with kisses for now; the furthest they’d gone so far was Cas enthusiastically straddling Dean’s lap on the couch as they’d made out.

Everything was extremely new, especially for Dean who wasn’t used to dating a guy. People would probably protest that it wasn’t different, but it was. Of course it was fucking different. But that didn’t mean it was _bad._ Dean just had to get used to it all, not just because he’d never dated a guy, mainly because he hadn’t dated _anyone_ properly in _years._ He felt like he needed to relearn it all over again, like it was some course he needed to master. Normally, when Dean started a new relationship, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, staying in the bedroom for the majority of their time together (amongst other places they could have sex on or against). But with Cas, it felt like he was in high school all over again, fumbling and bumbling his way through his first ever relationship.

“I just have –“ Castiel looked up at the clock, “five more minutes.”

Dean grinned fondly, propping his elbows up onto the counter. “You always follow the rules.”

Castiel pushed one more rose into place as he raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s amusing.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean chuckled, winking at Castiel. He only shook his head in response, a clear attempt at trying not to smile.

Charlie turned up then, popping out of the back of the store. When she saw Dean’s face, she looked torn between grinning and hitting him around the back of his head.  Dean wouldn’t be surprised if she hit him, to be honest.

For the week before, he’d been so busy avoiding Cas at all costs and as Charlie was Cas’ other best friend, Dean had had to avoid her too. And for the past week, Cas had been visiting him at the garage for lunch and then after work, they’d been hanging out a sickening amount. He just hadn’t had the time to stop being obsessed with dating Cas to actually call up Charlie and tell her that he was an idiot. As well as that, he was kind of avoiding making the call because he was shit at those kind of things.

“Uh, hey Charlie,” Dean said weakly, knowing he had yet another apology to dole out.

Charlie crossed her arms. “Well?”

Dean ducked his head down and grimaced. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been kinda MIA for the past two weeks, okay? I’m an asshole.”

Charlie stared at him, huffing and sighing before reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “Yes, you are. Even when there’s something going on with you two,” she pointed at Dean and Cas with a huffy breath of air, “doesn’t mean that you can just ignore me, Dean. I’m Cas’ friend, but I’m your friend too. So is Dorothy. Even if you two fall out, you can still be my friend. Just because I was friends with Cas first doesn’t mean I can’t be your friend too. Unless you were a major asshole to Cas, that is. Like, you tried to kidnap his cat or something. But it kind of works both ways. If Cas was a major asshole to you, I’d be angry with him too.” She frowned, waving her hands around. “What I’m trying to say is, don’t cut me out just when you and Cas are having some kind of drama. I’m _both_ of your friends, got it?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly, going back to crossing her arms.

“Got it,” Dean mumbled. The talk actually made Dean think about something he hadn’t mentioned to Cas actually, so he side eyed his slightly bewildered boyfriend. “That means you and my friends too, y’know. _Our_ friends.” He explained. “You didn’t talk to any of them when we, uh, when I, uh, y’know.” He didn’t want to word how he’d ignored the guy for a week because of their first kiss. He hated thinking about it. “They’re your friends too and they missed you that week. Like Charlie said, even if shit happens with us two, they’re your friends too and you don’t need to take a step back or anything.”

Castiel looked at him, and then at Charlie. “Oh,” he murmured, “okay.”

Dean nodded, happy with that answer. Apparently they were both shit at dealing with friends sometimes.

“Okay.” Charlie went back to grinning. “Good.” She stared at Dean and then at Cas, smile widening. “Right,” she added unnecessarily. Okay, what the hell was she grinning about so much? Dean was starting to get nervous.

“Can you tell Cas that he’s allowed to go five minutes early and that nothing bad will happen?” Dean asked.

Charlie patted Cas on the back. “You can go if you want to. Meg’s coming in soon and she won’t mind if you go a little early.” Dean tried not to roll his eyes at the woman’s name. “And Aaron is popping in later.”

“Aaron?” Dean frowned. “I thought he only did weekends?”

“Normally, he does,” Charlie said. “But it’s spring and we’re getting loads more gardening jobs coming up. He’s doing some extra hours. Cas can’t do all the gardening jobs alone. He started at eight this morning so he could get even more gardens in, but there’s only so much that Cas can do by himself.”

“People don’t care what their gardens look like in winter for the most part, but as soon as the sun comes out, everyone starts to worry again,” Castiel sighed, rubbing his stained hands together. “There’s a lot to do.”

Dean frowned. He knew Cas had been working longer hours as of late, but he hadn’t realised how demanding it had been. And gardening was a tough job to do. Sure, floristry could be difficult, dealing with such strong smelling things the entirety of the day, but dealing with people’s front yards was even more challenging. Especially right after winter where everyone’s gardens were arguably messes.

“You’re gonna be okay for tonight, right? If you’re too tired to do it –“ Dean started to say, ready to offer that they could just forget the party and stay in for the night instead. He didn’t want Cas to overwork himself.

“No, it’s fine.” Castiel smoothed it over. “I’m looking forward to tonight.”

“Yeah, go now.” Charlie grinned. “Don’t want you two to be late for your date.” She paused, laughing when they both snapped their heads to look over at her. “Late for your paintballing date with everyone, that is.”

Dean raised a challenging eyebrow at her, watching her as she looked from Dean to Cas again, still grinning knowingly. Her chin was in her hands as she sighed happily and okay, that grin was far too knowing for Charlie to be innocent. There was only one reason why Charlie was acting sneaky and pleased with herself.

“Did you tell her?” he asked Cas, not mad about it, but a head’s up would have been nice. So far they hadn’t told anyone about the two of them, though it would have been understandable for Castiel to have told Charlie as she was one of his best friends, but still, he could have fucking warned Dean!

Castiel peered at Charlie, squinting. “No, I didn’t.”

“No.” Charlie was practically squealing, looking so happy that she might actually burst now they’d pretty much confirmed it to her. “He didn’t. But come on,” she rolled her eyes and folded her arms, “I’m smart. Cas has been upset for ages and I haven’t saw you either. And then he suddenly turned up to work one day grinning like the cat that got the cream –“

Dean shuffled uncomfortably, still unhappy with being reminded about the period in which he’d ignored Castiel and altogether made him feel like shit. It wasn’t a sore spot between them, Cas had kept to his word and forgiven him instantly (which was still weird to Dean), but it still made Dean feel like the worst when it was brought up.

“And then bam,” Charlie clapped her hands against the counter, making Dean jump, “you’re here,” she pointed at Dean, “and you’re both being all giggly.”

“I’m not being giggly!” Dean protested, wondering what world Charlie lived in to put giggling and Dean Winchester in the same fucking sentence.

“Neither am I,” Castiel added dryly.

Charlie ignored them. “You totally are!” She nodded enthusiastically. “Argh, this is so exciting. How did it happen? Tell me from the start. Tell me _all_ the details.” She rushed out of her mouth, tapping the counter excitedly as she looked at them expectantly, eyes shining.

“We, uh,” Dean slowly started to walk backwards towards the exit, “we have to rush to Victor’s birthday, ah, thing.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, hurrying around the counter to join Dean in escaping.

Charlie’s face fell. “Party poopers,” she pouted, “I want to know.”

“I’ll tell you everything the next time I see you,” Castiel promised, though Dean had a feeling he would have said anything to get her off his back. Charlie could be scary when she sunk her teeth into something.

Charlie seemed to think the same thing as Dean, warning. “You better!” she yelled after them. “I’m so coming to your house tomorrow morning Castiel Novak and you better answer the door and tell me _everything_!”

Dean grabbed onto Cas’ sweater and hauled him out of the store, both of them racing to the car in case a wild Charlie appeared begging for more details. She was definitely not going to let it go. Dean would let Cas deal with her excited questions, she’d been his friend first.

Once Dean had taken a breath, realising he was far more unfit than he should be for a guy who walked a hell of a lot, he looked over at Cas. He was smiling at him, that warm, private way he did that made Dean feel like he was the only person who existed in Cas’ life at that moment. Dean had no clue how Cas could evoke that sort of a feeling through a simple look, but he could.

“Hey,” Dean murmured, his whole persona softening now that it was just the two of them. It wasn’t that he put up some bullshit macho image when they were in front of other people, it was just that neither of them were the kind of people who did cutesy fluffy shit in front of anyone else. They didn’t really do cutesy stuff in private either, not yet anyway, but there was something exhilarating about it just being the two of them.

Instead of replying with words, Castiel leant forward. Gently, he placed a hand on the pulse point on Dean’s neck, bringing him forward so they could kiss. Even now, after kissing Cas god knows how many times, it was still overwhelming to have Castiel’s mouth on his. He didn’t know whether it was because Cas was a guy, that they’d been friends first, or maybe just that he’d never felt this way about anyone before, but kissing Cas made Dean’s legs turn into jello. Every single time. It was a good job he was sitting down, else he would have melted into a puddle.

“Hello,” Castiel mumbled against Dean’s lips, pressing another kiss before leaning back into his seat as he switched on the car’s engine.

Dean hummed in appreciation, settling in his own seat as he grinned lazily over at Cas. He liked that Cas was getting more courageous with signs of affection now. Both of them were pretty cowardly when it came to making the first move to be intimate, but they were both getting braver and braver to pull the first touch or kiss. Dean liked that a hell of a lot.

Dean hesitated, unsure of whether to ruin the moment. “So,” he licked his lips, “Charlie knows.”

“Yes.” Castiel gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary; Dean knew it wasn’t because Cas was scared of Charlie knowing, more that he was scared as to how Dean would react to it. Even though Dean had promised he wasn’t going to keep Cas a secret forever, it didn’t mean that Dean wasn’t nervous about people knowing. Charlie was the first person to find out and it was kind of a big deal.

“And apparently we were giggling but I have no recollection of that.” Castiel frowned gruffly.

Dean snorted, watching Cas for a while before coming to a slightly amusing conclusion. “Was that,“ he gestured between the two of them, meaning the impromptu kiss, “your way of trying to distract me from thinking about how Charlie totally knows about us?”

“No.” Castiel frowned. “Why,” he glanced over at Dean quickly, “do you need to be distracted?”

Perhaps if it had been anyone but Charlie, it would have bothered him. They hadn’t told anyone yet, _Dean_ hadn’t told anyone. Well, besides Missouri, but she didn’t exactly count. It wasn’t that he was scared of how people would react – scratch that, that was _exactly_ why he didn’t want to tell anyone just yet. He doubted that his family would up and abandon him if he started dating a dude, but he wasn’t completely sure. How the hell was Dean supposed to predict the future? Not to mention there would probably be loads of questions about Dean’s sexuality that he wasn’t ready to answer yet, because he didn’t _have_ a fucking answer.

And it wasn’t even just that. It wasn’t all about being scared. It was also that everything was so fresh and new with Cas, he kind of wanted to selfishly keep it all to himself for now. For some reason, it made him feel special, though Dean wasn’t completely sure whether that was just his fear talking him into it.

Fuck, Dean really needed to stop being a coward and worrying what other people thought of him.

“Nah,” Dean reassured Cas, patting Cas’ thigh and then quickly retracting his now tingling hand. “Charlie’s Charlie. She’s the queen of the nerds _and_ lesbians. Hell, she’s queen of everything she’s involved with. I don’t care if she knows about us.”

And he wasn’t lying. He didn’t care that Charlie had figured it all out. If Dean could have made the decision as to who would be the first to find out, he would have chosen her. Charlie always dealt with everything so fucking well. He still remembered when he’d had the courage to finally tell her about the car crash, only for her to come back with that her parents had been involved in a car crash too. One that had ended up killing both of them in the end. To have someone in his life who knew what it was like, not only that, but to have someone who had such an awful experience but was the most positive person Dean had ever met? That shit had been inspiring.

And of course Castiel knew about both of their lives, but hadn’t blabbed to the other, letting them talk to each other when they were both ready. He was good like that.

All of Cas’ body eased at Dean’s words, fingers no longer digging into the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him breathing. Apparently, Castiel had been more concerned that he’d initially acted. Dean might have to talk to him about that at some point. But not now.

“She didn’t exactly seem surprised though.” Dean commented, caught between a frown and a smile. Clearly, he and Cas weren’t being as sneaky as they’d thought. That or Charlie was the world’s most observant human being. She was incredibly smart, so maybe that was it.

Castiel tapped against the steering wheel, admitting, “She knew I had feelings for you.”

“You told her?” Dean asked, surprised, but not surprised at the same time. Oher than Dean, Charlie was Cas’ best friend. And if Castiel wanted to talk to someone about his feelings, then he’d obviously go to his best friend. But if the person her liked _was_ his best friend, then obviously he would have to talk to his other best friend instead.

“No,” Castiel quashed Dean’s thoughts, “she figured it out. She’s very observant,” he said, voicing Dean’s assumption. “At the start, she thought you had feelings for me too,” he confided quietly, “that we were both afraid to make the first move. She was so sure. And I thought she was being ridiculous.” Castiel sighed, much to Dean’s uneasiness. “I guess she thought she would eventually prove me wrong.”

Dean considered it. If Charlie had thought that Dean had feelings for Cas, then it certainly explained some things. And also brought some things to the surface that he hadn’t initially thought were weird. But now that he knew Charlie’s mind frame…

“Is that why you invited me to the gay club?” Dean asked, putting two and two together and making a slightly amusing, albeit uncomfortable, realisation.

“What?” Castiel asked, puzzled. “No. No.” He shook his head, careful to reiterate it. “I just invited you because Charlie wanted me to go and I didn’t want to be the, ah,” he scrunched his nose, trying to remember the saying that he hadn’t understood in the first place, “third wheel, just like you said.”

“Right.” Dean nodded, happy that it hadn’t been some kind of weird plot. Obviously it would have been a harmless ploy but still, Dean wouldn’t have felt entirely comfortable to learn of it. He didn’t want to think that all of his interactions with Charlie had just been ways to try and get him and Cas into bed.

“But when I said I wanted to invite you, Charlie got it into her head that something might happen,” Castiel explained with a sigh. “She reads a lot of stories about couples getting together. She mentioned one about Captain Kirk and Spock once, it was very detailed.” He said, sounding mildly alarmed, much to Dean’s amusement. “But when you said you were straight, she let it go and assumed – alongside me – that nothing would happen. Even though she still had a sneaking suspicion that you may have liked me.”

“Huh,” Dean considered it, “so Charlie figured it out before me then.”

Castiel smiled, more like a smirk if Dean had ever seen one. “Apparently so.”

“Wow,” Dean whistled, feeling like an idiot, “if that doesn’t show how shit I am at this.”

“Dean, you’re not shit at this, I’ve already told you,” Castiel said earnestly. Just like any other time that Castiel swore with such a serious expression on his face, Dean laughed. He didn’t even know why he always found it so amusing, but he did. At that, Castiel frowned, almost pouted as he sighed at Dean’s childishness.

“Anyway,” Dean switched the subject, “you excited for Victor’s birthday thing?”

“I’ve never been paintballing before,” Castiel offered, “so it’s a new experience, I suppose.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Dean replied. None of them had actually gone before today. It wasn’t all that surprising as the paintballing range was in the next town over. No one had bothered with it before. But Victor had announced it for his birthday and everyone had agreed to it to please him, though some were more excited than others at the prospect of getting hit by paint bullets.

“It’s only ‘cause Victor never really gets to wave his gun around at work because nothing ever happens in our town. He just wants an excuse to show off his gun skills, even if it is paint.” Dean rolled his eyes good naturedly, knowing that Victor just wanted to mess around in a field, in the dark no less, and prove he was good at it. One thing Victor was always trying to prove was that he was well equipped for anything that even remotely signified his job. And Dean got it. He did. Victor’s dad had been the first black guy to be in the force in their town; through all the shit that had been thrown at him, he’d surpassed everyone else, much to his idiotic workmate’s irritation. Victor’s father’s shoes were hard to fill and Victor was working his damned hardest to fill them and prove that he was just as deserving as his father.

“How did you meet Victor? Was it through one of your friends?” Castiel enquired, turning a sharp corner that made both of them jolt in their seats.

“I never told you?” Dean asked back, clutching his seat as he did his best not to flinch at the sharp movement. He trusted Cas’ driving entirely, but that didn’t mean he trusted everyone else on the road. Nor did he trust roads he’d never been on before.

“No.,” Castiel replied, wordlessly reaching over and grabbing onto Dean’s hand. Of course he’d noticed that Dean had been getting antsy because of the road, _of course_. It did make Dean wonder if there had been moments before _this_ that Cas had wanted to hold onto his hand in the car to help him ease his worries. If he had followed through with the urge, would Dean had let his hand be held or he would he ran away just like he had when they’d initially kissed? Dean hoped it would have been the former rather than the latter, but he knew it was more likely the other way around.

Dean squeezed Cas’ hand in gratitude. “I was the one who introduced him to everyone. Honestly though, I kind of hated him when I first met him,” he admitted, able to smile about it now even if the memory was more than a little painful.

Castiel looked puzzled at the revelation. “Why?” He frowned, probably wondering how anyone could hate Victor when he such a good, hard working kind of guy. Victor was likeable, considerably so. There was just something about him that made people feel comfortable around him.

Dean ran his free fingers over Cas’ hand to give himself something to do, something to focus on. It was a strategy that Missouri had taught him. He made small patterns on the tanned skin as he explained, voice so quiet it could hardly be heard over the rickety engine. “He was the guy who came to question me about the crash. I was the only one who still alive besides Sam, but Sam was unconscious still. So he needed to ask me what happened so he could file a report.”

Castiel squeezed his hand tightly, understanding washing over him as he listened. That was one of the things Dean really liked about Cas, he always listened properly, making you feel like someone actually cared about what you had to say.

“Sammy was still in the hospital, he still hadn’t woken up but I knew that as soon as he did, I’d have to explain to him that our parents were gone.” His voice hitched as he took a moment to recover. Remembering the moment when he’d shook his head, just once, when a half conscious Sam had asked whether their parents were okay was never something Dean liked to think about it. It was one of his worst moments in his life, if not the worst. Telling Sam that they’d lost their parents, watching Sam’s face fall, was arguably even more hurtful than Dean having to deal with the loss himself.

“And then –“ Dean licked his lips, moistening them, “Victor came strolling in, asking me all these questions. He was just doing his job, I know that now, and honestly, he did it as respectfully as he could. He never pushed. But that didn’t mean I was okay with it. I told him to go fuck himself, basically yelled at him for a good five, ten minutes.” Dean huffed, remembering it like it was yesterday even though much of that time in his life had become somewhat of a haze. It was weird, some parts so vivid that he felt like he was reliving them when he thought back, but then there were other times, like the crash itself and the time getting to the hospital, that were so mushy in his brain that he wasn’t sure he was remembering it right.

“He left with me thinking he was a douchebag.” Dean covered Cas’ hand with both of his, wishing that they weren’t in a car so they could have more contact. “He came back a couple of days later. He must have been fucking brave to come back himself instead of sending someone else for him. Sammy had woken up by then. He questioned us both,” he smiled sadly, “I still hated him. But when all the questions were done, Sam fell asleep. He was still exhausted, he was barely sleeping as it was. The only thing getting him to sleep was the pain meds.”

Castiel carried on holding his hand as tightly as he could, squeezing Dean’s fingers as he listened to the story. He knew Dean never talked about this shit, and Dean could feel how honoured Cas felt to be able to hear it, for Dean to feel comfortable enough with him to relay the words.

“Anyway, I, er,” Dean coughed, embarrassed to admit the next part even though he didn’t need to be around Cas, nor should he fucking think that around anyone else either, “I guess I kind of had a panic attack. And instead of just leaving, of just going to work because he’d finished with us, he stuck around. He took me out of Sam’s room, so I wouldn’t wake him up and upset him. And the guy got me a coffee.” Dean smiled, though it was small at best. “He just sat with me until I calmed down. He didn’t try to get me to talk, didn’t say any bullshit. He just waited with me and then took me back to Sam’s room when I was ready. And then I realised that he wasn’t as much of a dick as I thought.

“After that, he just kind of stuck around. So yeah,” Dean shrugged, scratching his neck, “he and Jo will have me to thank one day. I’m the one who introduced them in the first place.”

Castiel was back to looking confused again, an endearing expression that Dean kind of favoured, especially when he felt shit like he did now. “Why would they need to thank you?”

“Oh come on, you’ve got to have noticed all the longing stares they give each other!” Dean pointed out, because how could someone _not_ have noticed?

“Not really,” Castiel explained sincerely. “When you’re around, I don’t really pay much attention to anyone else.”

Pathetically, Dean’s heart thumped at the comment. He was close to fucking clutching his chest as he considered what Castiel was saying. One day Cas was going to casually come out with something that fucking endearing and Dean was going to have a heart attack. He wasn’t used to someone just coming out with that shit, not about him. Worse, Dean knew Cas actually meant every word; he wasn’t saying it to be nice or cute, he genuinely meant it all.

“So basically,” Dean chose the loud sarcastic route, his safety mechanism when things were getting a bit too much for him to deal with at that very moment, “what you’re saying is that you’ve been too busy giving me longing stares to notice Jo and Victor doing the same with each other?”

A flitter of a smile lit up Cas’ face. “I guess so,” he admitted with a gentle squeeze of Dean’s hand.

 

* * *

 

Traffic held them up. Apparently Cas had chosen to go down the more scenic route (that was what he’d told Dean, but deep down, Dean knew that Cas had chosen side roads to help accommodate Dean) so by the time they reached the paintball range, everyone was already there, bustled together in the lobby of the place and raring to go.

As soon as Dean had realised they were going to be somewhat late, Dean had messaged Victor to let him know that they were on their way and would be there as soon as possible. When they came strolling in ten minutes late, Victor didn’t even bat an eyelid. Even though Dean had told Castiel not to fuss, it didn’t stop him from bumbling an apology, like he’d committed a murder rather than being a little late.

Because they were running behind, they all went straight into the locker room to get changed into the gear. The clothes they had to wear were too big and smelt funny, but the helmet with the face guard they had to throw on would probably help combat the smell. Dean supposed that when he was running away from paint pellets, the smell of borrowed clothes would be the least of his worries.

All the men were squashed into one room to get changed and Dean automatically decided that he wasn’t going to look at Cas when they started to undress. His plans were scuppered anyway when Cas folded the camouflage clothes in his arms and shuffled off to the bathroom to get changed away from everyone else.

Dean had no idea what his reaction would be when he saw any part of Cas’ body that wasn’t his face, arms or neck. Hell, he’d never even saw the guy’s forearms yet. Seriously, Dean had no clue how he was going to feel. It actually kind of scared him to think about it. Did he find Cas attractive? Hell yes. That was obvious now. He thought the guy was far too beautiful for his own good with those baby blues, sex hair, and pink lips. But Dean would like the other parts of him? Mainly the _dick_ part of him? Honestly, Dean didn’t really know. And the uncertainty was freaking him out a little.

His doubts were thrown out of the window when he turned around to see Cas who had finally come back from the bathroom. Well, Dean was starting to question why he was scared. Because the guy looked _good._ It was a simple camouflage body suit, with a chest armour thrown over the top of it (to protect them from dying, Dean guessed in horror). But Cas had managed to get a better fitted suit than Dean, slim to his body. And seeing Cas wearing it? Fuck, it was kind of doing things to Dean. Things that were pleasant because hey, he definitely thought Cas was hot, but also a little weird because he should not be getting a boner when he was stuffed into a locker room with all of his friends.

“What?” Castiel asked innocently, keeping it quiet so as not to garner anyone else’s attention.

Dean shrugged. “Suits you,” he mumbled with red cheeks. By the look on Cas’ face, he understood what Dean was trying to say. With a blush and a conflicting smirk, Castiel walked over to grab one of the helmets, Dean following suit. And okay, Dean maybe stared at his ass for the entire two second journey, but no one needed to know that.

Once everyone was dressed in their gear, all complaining about the smells and scratchiness of the uniform, Victor gathered them in the terrain that they’d be playing in. It was mostly just a smallish forest, with a few hiding places set up, like fallen tree branch and even some small cabin buildings that could either be your saviour or the place you got ambushed. The cabins that had the red doors were apparently the only spots that you could go into where everyone had to cease their fire. Everywhere else was going to be a violent mess. All in all, the surroundings didn’t look all that intimidating, but the thought of paint guns being held by his somewhat lunatic friends and the combination of the setting sun, it made things all the more terrifying for Dean.

“Okay, so listen out for your name,” Victor told them, holding a sheet of paper in one hand, his helmet in the other. He listed off some of Dean’s friends. Still distracted by Cas in his clothes, Dean was completely uncaring of the damn list until Cas’ name popped up. And then the list ended without his own name being said. Okay, what the hell?

“Okay then, all of you stand over there,” Victor told them, the group following his instructions, even Castiel. “Jody’s your team leader,” he explained, pointing to one of his cop buddies that Dean didn’t know all too well.

“Wait,” Dean held up his hand, to which Castiel stopped walking to look over at him expectantly, “we can’t choose what team we’re gonna be in?”

Victor shrugged. “I just randomly chose you all out of a hat. I thought it would be better than us all choosing on the spot. Less high school.” He explained. His reasons were right, but that didn’t stop Dean from sighing.

“Oh,” he said, disappointed. He’d wanted to work with Cas, running around as a team and shooting everyone else so they’d be victorious. Now they were going to be working against each other and Dean wouldn’t get to see all that much of Cas for the night. He was gonna be running around in the dark by himself, getting shot at. And that right there _sucked._

“Why?” Victor folded his arms challengingly. “You want to be on someone else’s team other than mine?”

“No, shut up Victor,” Dean complained, playfully shoving Victor in the arm, who then just shoved him back.

“Okay then, so my team is: you’ve guessed it Dean, you’re in mine.” Victor started to rumble off a list while Dean tried his hardest not to gaze longingly over at Castiel.

 

* * *

 

Paintballing, Dean found, was an extremely violent sport. Everyone was shooting anyone that came into shoot with no hesitation. Sometimes, people were shooting their own team members. Not to mention that it was fading into darkness, so everyone was even wilder.

Mildly, Dean was enjoying himself, cursing every time he got shot at or accidentally jumped into a dirty puddle. For the most part though, he just kept looking out for Cas. He missed the guy and was still kind of pissed that they weren’t in the same team. He knew they would have made a badass power couple when it came to shooting down the enemy, so when he saw a familiar figure racing into one of the little hide away cabins, Dean didn’t stop himself from following.

On edge, Castiel raised his gun as soon as Dean entered the small building, a warning sign to anyone who thought they were gonna mess with him.

Instinctively, Dean raised his arms defensively. “Hey, hey, I’m not gonna shoot you,” he explained, surprised that while his voice was muffled, it still could be heard. “I just saw you coming in here and I wanted to say hi. You’re not allowed to shoot people in these cabins anyway,” he said.

Castiel relaxed his shoulders. “Sorry,” he said, sheepish sounding even through the mask. “I didn’t realise it was you at first. And I didn’t know whether everyone would remember the rules.” He pulled off his helmet with a sigh, shaking his hair as he placed the helmet on the bench to rest against the wall.

“Enjoying yourself?” Dean quirked an eyebrow, even though Cas couldn’t see it.

Castiel huffed, picking at his protective vest. “It would be much more enjoyable if my team were working together and there was some kind of strategy at play. At the moment, we’re all running around like headless chickens.”

Dean grinned, sauntering forward. “Look at you being Mr Soldier.”

Castiel huffed and gave him a perfect death glare, which wasn’t exactly effective with Cas’ sweaty face and messy hair. “Are you making fun of me?” He remarked.

“No. Just love that you’re taking paintballing so damn seriously.” He stepped forward again, moving forward to slide his hands to Cas’ hips so he could reach forward and kiss –

“Oof.” Dean head-butted Cas, completely forgetting that he was wearing a helmet. God, why was Dean such a fucking idiot sometimes? He used to always think he was so cool and collected, not to mention suave, when it came to dating. But obviously he was just a dumbass who had no fucking clue as to what he was doing.

“I don’t think your helmet wants us to do that, Dean.” Castiel smiled, looking torn between making fun of Dean and letting it go so as not to embarrass him further. The latter apparently won as Castiel reached forward and pulled Dean’s helmet off for him. He placed it on the bench provided for the little safe house.

Feeling like he could actually breathe again, Dean took a few lungful’s of air whilst Castiel picked at Dean’s hair like he was a gorilla grooming his loved one. “Your hair is messy,” Castiel commented.

Dean snorted. “Not as messy as yours,” he admired, “you always look like you’ve just rolled around in bed with someone.”

Castiel opened his mouth, scandalised at the comment. “I don’t always look that way!”

“Yeah you do.” Dean grinned fondly, hovering his hands over Cas’ hips for a moment until he gained the courage to pull Cas closer by the grip of his hips. “But that’s why I like it.” He murmured against Cas’ mouth, reaching forward to peck his lips. Dean only hoped that no one came barging into the cabin with their gun waving around. Kissing Cas was not the time or place to get a paint bullet in the face. Nor was it the time for Cas to get hit in the head either.

“What about you,” Castiel asked once he’d turned the quick peck into a mini make out session, “are you enjoying yourself?”

“Eh,” Dean pulled a face to show he was neither here or there on the matter, “I’m getting hit by paintballs that fucking hurt and I’m running around a forest getting caked in mud. I’ve had better times. But I guess this is kinda fun in a masochistic way. And I know Victor’s enjoying himself, at least he was the last time I saw him.”

The visual of Victor and Jo yelling as they ran through the forest together, shooting at someone who was trying to run away was probably one, if not the, highlight of the whole night. Especially as the person who’d been running away like a scared animal had been far too tall to be anyone but Sam. Ha, Dean was going to make fun of him for that for a hell of a long time.

“You haven’t been hit many times,” Castiel observed, looking over Deans outfit.

“They’ve got to catch me first,” Dean grinned, squeezing Cas’ hip bones, “I’m a fucking fast runner. I did track when I was at school.” He boasted playfully, Running had used to always be one of his favourite pastimes, racing for barely a minute to find he’d been faster than everyone else. The quick sprint where no one could catch him. Cas could keep his marathon jogs, Dean would choose a sprint instead any day of the week.

“I did get hit on the arm though. From someone in my own team,” he scowled at the red mark tainting his forearm, “I bet it was Jo the traitor.” He looked over Cas’ clothes. “You haven’t got hit that many times either.”

“That’s why I came in here. This one,” he pointed at the one on his chest, just high enough to miss the protective vest, “it hit quite hard and I just wanted to check it out.”

Dean frowned. “Lemme see.” He batted Cas’ hands away and took control. Just the mention of Cas maybe being hurt had Dean turning into a fusspot. When Cas’ hands fell to his sides, Dean started to undo the top buttons of Cas’ outfit. It was intimate, completely so, and Dean found that he was holding his breath as he undid the few buttons that were necessary. God, what had Dean been saying earlier? About how he was unsure of whether he’d find _all_ of Cas attractive? Well, today was just proving him wrong. And then even more wrong. If Dean felt like hyperventilating over seeing a bit of Cas’ collarbone, he was going to have a straight up heart attack when he saw the guy naked.

All thoughts of Cas’ hotness disappeared when he saw the large mark over Cas’ neck and collarbone. An angry red looking thing that was definitely going to bruise. “Shit, that looks like it hurts.” He skimmed his hand over the oncoming bruise, wincing when Castiel did. “God,” Dean gritted his teeth, “why couldn’t Victor have chosen something else for his birthday? Or at least went with laser tag, jesus.”

Castiel cocked an eyebrow. “Earlier you were saying it was quite enjoyable.”

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.” Dean grumbled, hovering his fingertips over the mark, but being careful not to touch it. If only a simple touch from Dean could heal him and take the redness away before it became a bruise.

“Right,” Castiel replied, clearly reading straight through Dean.

“Shut up,” Dean retorted, being very much shut up by Cas’ mouth on his. Not that Dean was complaining about that.

“I guess we better get back out there. Even though I kinda wish we could just hide out in here until it’s all over,” Dean sighed, dropping his head to rest his forehead against Cas’.

“I guess so.” Castiel mirrored Dean’s sigh, blowing softly against Dean’s lips.

Dean had a thought, one that would make the remainder of the night go by a hell of a lot quicker. “You want to work together?” he asked, kissing the corner of Cas’ mouth.

Castiel drew back, frowning. “We’re on different teams,” he said, like Dean was being an idiot, as if their kissing had rendered Dean into some kind of stupidity coma.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, nudging their noses together, “but we have a common team enemy.”

The realisation on Cas’ face was nothing short of smug smile. “Sam’s?”

Dean waggled his eyebrows. “You’ve got it in one.”

 

* * *

 

“Well done to Jody’s team for winning,” Dean raised his bottle of beer, “and happy birthday to Victor too, I guess.” He added the latter like it was unimportant, winking at Victor when he glared over at him.

There were a mixture of laughs and happy birthdays rung out when they all clinked their glasses and bottles together. All in all, even though they were bruised, dirty, and exhausted, everyone was in good spirits. Especially Jody’s team who had come up top.

When everyone else was distracted, Dean turned his attention to Cas, who was squashed up next to him in the booth. They’d all tried to shove themselves into one booth in Ellen’s bar, which has been an epic disaster.

“How’s your chest?” Dean asked him, having to lean in for Cas to hear him over the loud noises of his friends. Now that they were together, Dean was very much aware of their body language and how they interacted. Before, had they always sat this close, arm hung around the back of the booth chair so he could feel the hairs on the nape of Cas’ neck when he leant back slightly? Before, had Dean and Cas leant in that fucking closely to talk in a busy room? Jesus, had Dean and Cas been this damn obvious before they’d even been together?

“It’s fine. It’s only a bruise.” Castiel smiled privately at Dean, brushing it aside.

“Okay,” Dean said, still unsure. He didn’t like seeing Cas hurt, especially when there was no reason for him to be. Paintballing wasn’t a good enough excuse to be bruised and sore all over. Dean had already noticed bruises forming on his own skin when he’d gotten dressed in the locker room, so he kind of knew how Cas was feeling. Dean just wanted to get into a warm bath and soak in it until his limbs felt like jello. In short, Victor fucking owed him.

“Hey Dean,” Sam called from the other side of the booth, using his gigantic limbs to pat Dean on the shoulder and kick him under the table to get his attention.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows as he subtly leant out of Cas’ personal space a little. Sometimes he forget that there were other people around him when Cas was around. Castiel kind of just took his entire attention.

“Jess and I have looked and we’re both free at the start of next month. On the first weekend. So we can go and sort out everything at the cabin,” Sam offered.

“The first weekend of next month?” Dean considered it, figuring it was as good a time as any. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed, smiling over at Jess as well, who was too busy having a debate with Jo on something that Dean had no clue about.

At Castiel’s questioning gaze, Dean explained, “We’re going to go visit the family cabin. We thought it would be good to finally go there because it really needs to be cleaned out. God knows what stuff we’ve left there. I kinda talked about it to Missouri and she said it would be a good part to my recovery as well. Or whatever the hell she calls it.” He shrugged.

“Oh, okay.” Castiel nodded, not looking bothered that this had been the first he’d heard of it.

Dean looked at Cas, thinking for a moment. He considered something he should have done as soon as the option of going to the cabin had come up. “Do you want to come?” He nudged Cas’ shoulder.

Surprised, Castiel blinked at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Jess is coming with Sam obviously,” Dean explained, Cas’ eyes widening when he heard himself being compared to Jess. “You can keep me company when they get all soppy.” Dean grinned, nudging Cas again. “It,” Dean swallowed, voice softening when he realised the truth in the next statement, “it would be good if you could come.”

Castiel clearly understood that Dean wasn’t just asking for the sake of it, he genuinely wanted him to be there by his side. Dean didn’t know why he hadn’t thought about it in the first place. Now that the option was there, he didn’t want to go without Cas. It might actually even make it, dare Dean say it, enjoyable. He could busy himself with telling Cas stories and showing him the cool parts in and around the cabin, rather than swelling on the dreary past.

“I’ll ask Meg whether I can have a few days off.”

“Ugh.” Dean pulled a face. He did not like that woman. He had no clue why Meg owned a flower shop that was sugary and sweet. Looking at the building, you’d think it was Charlie who owned it, not Meg, who would roll her eyes and scrunch her nose at the flowers. It was like she’d lost a bet and was being forced into owning a floristry.

“Shh,” Castiel poked Dean, “she’s nice to me,” he told him. “She’ll probably say yes anyway. It’s quite ahead of time and I haven’t used any of my holidays yet.”

“Okay.” Dean sighed in relief, only just realising how much he wanted Cas to go with him. “Good.”

“Okay.” Castiel nodded back, patting Dean on the thigh under the table before extracting his hand before anyone could notice. Ah Cas, the king of subtlety.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean called over to Sam, “we’re definitely going the first weekend, right?” Want to make sure that we book the right days.” He nodded at Cas to include him.

Surprise lit up Sam’s eyes as he realised that Dean was including Cas; he didn’t say anything, but Dean knew that this as well as the driving thing meant that Sam really wanted to fucking say something. Dean only hoped that it would be something good rather than another speech of how Dean relied on Cas too much (yeah, Dean hadn’t forgotten about that). Unlike Sam, Jess didn’t even blink an eye at the mention of Cas joining them.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “definitely the start of the next month. On the weekend.”

“There you go,” Dean told Cas, turning his head away from Sam to let him know he could go back to doing whatever he’d been doing, “just flutter your eyelashes at Meg, I’m sure she’ll say yes.” He grunted, swigging his beer.

Castiel squinted at him. And then his eyes were widening in realisation.

“What?” Dean asked, feeling defensive before Castiel even said anything.

“Are you jealous of Meg?” Castiel asked, straight to the point. “Is that why you dislike her?”

“No, shut up,” Dean automatically snapped back before he thought about it. Before he thought about how the first time he’d met her, she’d had her hands all over Cas saying all sorts of flirty nonsense that Castiel had later told Dean was a joke and Meg did categorically _not_ have feelings for him, she just liked to make people squirm. But that hadn’t stopped Dean from scowling every time he saw Meg say some stupid shit to Cas, who had rolled his eyes fondly and carried on with his work.

“Shit,” Dean winced, “maybe?” he said quietly with red cheeks. He spotted Cas’ ‘ _I’m trying not to laugh_ ’ face a fucking mile off. “It’s not fucking funny.” Dean complained, close to crossing his arms and throwing a tantrum. He hated being reminded that he’d been a total fucking idiot when it came to liking Cas. The shit had been obvious and Dean had been too dumb to see it. Dammit, the signs had been _right there_.

“Dean,” Castiel smiled gently, “you know you have nothing to be jealous of.”

“Shut up,” Dean huffed with a childish scowl.

“I have to go to the bathroom but please, Dean, don’t feel jealous anymore.” Castiel leant in close to mumble in Dean’s ear. “You’re the only person I want.”

And on that bombshell, Castiel was shuffling out of the booth, apologising to everyone as they all had to move around and put themselves into the dodgiest of positions to let Cas escape the close knit group. Dean watched him go, unaware of whether his mouth was hanging open or not. Castiel just had this thing where he would say the most gut clenching things and then act like it was nothing, like it wasn’t the most difficult thing to admit to aloud. Dean couldn’t even count how many times Cas had knocked him for six with such tiny statements. He guessed he would have to get used to it.

“How long has that been going on for?” Sam asked, making Dean metaphorically and physically jump. God, he hated it when his brother did that, just randomly started talking when Dean’s head was up his own ass as he thought too much.

Dean stiffened at the question. “How long has what been going on for?” he repeated the question to give himself more time. He hadn’t even thought about what he was going to say to Sam about Cas and maybe talking about it at Victor’s birthday party wasn’t the best setting. It was kind of surprising that Mr Sensitive himself was bringing it up when they were in a crowd.

Sam gestured to where Cas had disappeared to. “Cas giving you a ride to places.”

Dean relaxed. “A while.” He shrugged, not really wanting to get into it, especially not tonight when they’d all enjoyed themselves besides a few bruises here and there. But he knew Sm wouldn’t let it go unless Dean at least gave him something to digest until they spoke about it again.

“A while?” Sam frowned, surprised at that, but then he came to his own conclusion. “Is it because of the therapy you’ve been having?”

“No,” Dean shook his head, choosing to be truthful even though he knew it would probably stir up more shit in Sammy’s mind, “it was before then.”

Sam looked over at Jess, who was busying herself with rummaging in her purse, a clear sign that she didn’t want to be involved. She knew when to and when _not_ to get in between Sam and Dean. Apparently she’d decided that this was one of those times. That, or she knew more about Dean and Cas’ situation than she was showing.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Sam asked, flabbergasted.

“It’s not a big deal.” Dean tried his hardest to make it so Sam would let it go already. “Besides, I thought you’d be happy. Saves me from using you as a cab service all the time.”

“Dean,” Sam frowned unhappily, “you know I don’t see it that way. Never have and never will.”

“I know, I know.” Dean rolled his eyes, even though he didn’t know, not really. Missouri hadn’t quite yet helped him learn how to stop feeling like a damn burden every time he needed some help from his family.

Sam reached over the small table to squeeze Dean’s wrist. “Well, I’m glad you’re getting better. Just make sure you carry on doing it for you, not because you feel like you need to for the rest of us.”

Dean nodded, grateful for that. Thankfully, there was a commotion on the other end of the booth, with everyone realising that Jo was holding hands with Victor, so Dean didn’t have to think of a reply to Sam. And yep, Victor looked extremely pleased for himself while Jo told everyone to shut the fuck up with a scowl and red cheeks, noticeably holding tightly onto Victor’s hand throughout her rant. Well, it looked like Dean and Cas weren’t the only ones getting their heads out of their asses and finally getting together.

 

* * *

 

“I’m not drunk, Cas,” Dean fussed, “I’m hardly even tipsy. It takes a lot to get me drunk, y’know, I have a high tolerance.” He bragged, nearly tripping and falling flat on his face when he got out of the car.

Castiel caught him and righted him. He looked at him knowingly. “Still, I want to walk you to your apartment.” He phrased it like he was doing it for his own benefit rather than Dean’s, which kind of made Dean feel less like a child.

“Actually,” Dean latched onto Cas’ hand, a first for them in public, “come into my apartment, I need to show you something,” he pulled a face when he realised how dirty that sounded, “like, an actual thing, not a, um, yeah…” He trailed off as Castiel squinted at him, confused.

“Something?” Castiel raised an eyebrow, though he gripped Dean’s hand tighter and followed Dean into the building.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded enthusiastically, “it’s a present. I’ve been trying to figure out a time to show it to you, ‘cause we’re always at your place instead of mine. And tonight is as good a night as any. It’s finally fucking finished as well.”

“Okay,” Castiel replied, confused but going along with it anyway. Dean had a feeling Cas didn’t like surprises, but he didn’t complain as they took the stairs together. Castiel held onto Dean’s hand far tighter than necessary, like he thought Dean was going to fall over and impale himself or something. Sure, Dean nearly tripped a few times, but he was _not_ drunk, okay?

They shuffled into the apartment, the goosebumps on Dean’s arms fading as they hit the warm air. Castiel dropped Dean’s hand, fiddling with the collar of his coat as he waited for Dean to explain his surprise present. For now though, Dean had different ideas.

“Y’know,” he turned to meet Cas, “you looked really good in that paintballing outfit.”

Castiel flushed but he took the compliment. “Thank you.”

“Really good.” Dean grinned, hooking his arms around Cas’ neck. He felt looser now that he’d had a bit to drink, he didn’t feel quite so self-conscious with his movements, there were no second guessing, no awkwardness. “I thought maybe I wouldn’t think you were – I mean, I guess I was kinda worried to see more of you ‘cause I thought I wouldn’t like it or something,” he tried to explain, but the look on Cas’ puzzled face showed that he was doing a terrible fucking job of it.

“Shit,” Dean slumped his head down, “maybe I am a little drunk.” he admitted, already feeling like he’d somehow fucked up. He really shouldn’t try to have serious, heartfelt conversations when he was tipsy. But at the same fucking time, a lot of the conversations wouldn’t start unless he had some drink in him to give him a little head start of courage. It was a tossup between talking about it while he wasn’t fully able to use his head right, or not talking about it at all.

“You were worried that you wouldn’t find me attractive,” Castiel deduced slowly, saying the words as a statement instead of a question. The tension formed in his shoulders, hands gripping onto Dean’s shirt uncomfortable.

“No, it’s not that.” Dean shook his head forcibly, enough to make his brain feel like a milkshake. “Well,” he paused, “I guess it kinda was. Obviously you’re a good looking dude. Like, a really good looking dude.” He nudged their hips together, smiling. “And I’m obviously I’m attracted to you or whatever because I want to kiss you all the time and touch you –“ he pulled a face, “in a non-creepy way. I don’t want to touch you when you don’t –“

“Perhaps we should have this conversation when you’re more sober,” Castiel interrupted him.

“No, I want to talk about it now.” Dean continued the conversation, desperate to get his point across without offending Cas along the way. If he left it now, Cas would go home thinking something that was totally different to what Dean meant. “I guess, I was just worried that – I mean, you’re a guy and I’ve only ever dated girls. Obviously. And before I’ve never been attractive to guys before, at least I don’t think so, but maybe I was and I didn’t – anyway, what I’m trying to say is, you walked in with your dumb sweaters and sex hair,” he smirked, Castiel slowly smiling back, “and you’ve kind of turned my world around. In the best way possible.” Dean shrugged, pecking Cas on the mouth. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m obviously not as straight as I thought I was,” he kissed Cas again, “and that I think you’re hot.”

“I –“ Castiel swallowed, “thank you.” He reached forward to kiss Dean, earning a satisfied sigh from those lips. “I know this is all very new to you, Dean. Having feelings for me when you’ve only ever felt an attraction to women in the past must be confusing and I’m not going to pretend to understand how that feels for you.”

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled, just wanting to kiss Cas again, his gaze on his mouth.

“But, please, talk to me. If you’re worrying about things, or if you’re not ready for certain things in our relationship, just talk to me. We have to go at each other’s pace, one that we both feel comfortable with. Please don’t just keep it all inside, because then I just have to guess how you’re feeling about things and guessing doesn’t always work,” Castiel told him seriously. “But,” he smiled, nuzzling their noses together to show that his serious talk was over, “I am glad you’re starting to figure out things in your mind.”

“Yeah, well, I had to figure it out at some point, didn’t I?” Dean asked with a derisive snort. “And I’ve figured that I’m not exactly straight and I’m probably bi or something and I need to stop worrying that I’m gonna have some big freak out when I see a dick.” Dean opened his mouth and shut it, feeling his cheeks rapidly redden. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe we should stop talking about this until I’m sober.”

Castiel nodded, ducking his head to hide his own pink cheeks. “Perhaps.” He offered.

“Hey.” Dean’s eyes widened as he remembered the whole reason why Cas had come to his apartment in the first place. “I haven’t shown you your present yet.”

“Oh, I forgot.” Castiel looked up at Dean, looking pleased that the subject had changed. Dean grinned, grabbing Cas’ hand to lead to him to his bedroom. It was a room that Cas hadn’t entered just yet. They were always at Cas’ house because it was easier, and the few times Cas had been to Dean’s since they’d started dating, there’d been no reason for Cas to go into Dean’s bedroom. There’d been the one time when Cas had wanted to borrow a sweater (Dean was pretty sure the guy still had it, maybe Cas was only dating him to steal all off Dean’s sweaters and then run off with the hoard) and Dean had gone and grabbed it for him so Cas wouldn’t go into Dean’s room, for obvious reasons that he was going to show Cas.

“Surprise!” Dean yelled as he opened the door, half hysterically because he was slightly terrified to show Cas what he’d been working on. It was a big deal for him, showing Cas what he’d done. It wasn’t like he’d gone out and bought some dumb thing, this was something that Dean had worked had on. He gestured towards the far corner of his bedroom, which had a white sheet thrown on the floor to protect his carpet. On the sheet was the wooden coffee table that Dean had worked on the past few months, carving it with his own hands and tools.

“You –“ Castiel gasped, abandoning Dean’s hand to rush forward to the piece of furniture. “You made this?” Castiel gaped, hands hovering over the wooden piece.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “I started it when we couldn’t go to the furniture store because Sam thought he saw Ruby. When you – when you told me about what happened to you. I don’t know, I wanted to do something,” he explained, “and I just started making this.”

The urge to make something out of wood, after so long of avoiding it, had been overwhelming for Dean. It had been something that he had just known he needed to do. The very next day he’d gone out and got chunks of wood, had gone back to his old supplier who had seemed to age dramatically since Dean had been there last.

“I would have done it in the garage, but we’re in there a lot because of therapy homework so I had to use Bobby’s garage at first and then I moved it up here when the main shit was done,” he explained.

“Dean, I –“ Castiel shook his head, unable to form words as he knelt down to properly look at the wooden coffee table. It had taken Dean two attempts to start the thing; he was rusty on furniture making and it had taken a good effort to make something that he would be happy to hand over to Cas. He wasn’t going to give him some random piece of shit. Not only that, but he’d wanted the furniture piece to reflect who Cas was a person, making sure there were flowers entwined into the wooden legs, flowers carved into each corner of the table. Flowers that Castiel was once going to give to Dean. Forget me nots, hyacinths, and daisies.

“You – you like it, right? It’s okay if you don’t.” Dean stumbled on his words, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. He didn’t want Cas to pretend that he liked it, to put it into his living room just for the sake of it.

“Like?” Castiel laughed throatily. He stood up then, bounding over to Dean so quickly that they nearly fell over. He cupped Dean’s face with slightly shaking hands. “Thank you,” Castiel exhaled across Dean’s lips, “thank you,” he kissed Dean, “thank you,” another kiss, “thank you.”

By the sheer force of gratitude being sent Dean’s way, he just knew that Cas understood the significance of Dean making it for him. He hadn’t carved anything since the crash. He hadn’t picked up one of his tools because it had reminded him of what he’d lost. But for Cas, he’d done it. He’d done the impossible.

“You’re welcome,” Dean mumbled; he didn’t know whether it was the booze in his system or Cas’ genuine reaction, but Dean chose to go with the quiet, honest route rather than reply with some ridiculous sarcastic comment because he couldn’t handle Cas being so grateful to him.

“Bobby said we could borrow the work van to haul it to your house whenever we wanted,” he told Cas, not mentioning that he’d sworn Bobby to secrecy and to not ask any questions when Dean had asked to use the garage. He hadn’t wanted the inevitable fuss about it.

“Thank you,” Castiel murmured again, throat clicking and catching as he kissed Dean, almost as if to distract him from seeing that he was close to tears.

“You’re welcome,” Dean repeated, not quite knowing what else to say, sobered up just like that. Castiel kissed him again, licking Dean’s mouth open as he hummed happily. Dean’s fingers dug into Cas’ waist, sighing now that he’d finally had the courage to show Cas his present. The thing had been finished for weeks now.

Castiel pulled them apart to yawn, his face screwing up like a tired kitten.

“Tired, huh?” Dean said.

“Yes,” Cas nodded, “and I definitely need a bath to try and soothe my muscles from all that running and paintballs.” He frowned.

“God, me too,” Dean groaned, only just remembering the new bruises.

“I should probably head back,” Castiel said quietly, hesitating. Dean looked at him, pressing his lips together as he thought of doing something really dumb and offering Cas to stay at his. Already, his thoughts were coming up with how awesome it would actually be to share a bed with Cas and cuddle. He knew the guy would be a cuddler. But then Castiel continued to speak, breaking the dream.

“I should probably check on Aniel as well,” Cas added, voice so quiet and was Dean just hoping to hear regret in his voice, or was it really there?

“Okay,” Dean said slowly with a sigh, wishing he had the guts to come out and say that he wanted Cas to stay the night, even if it was too soon and it would all end in disaster. But when was cuddling in bed ever too soon?

“Thank you for the table, Dean.” Castiel smoothed his thumb over Dean’s cheek, making Dean all but breathless and lost for words for a moment. God dammit, Cas really needed to stop doing that. And he also needed to start doing it all the time too. Dean was conflicted.

By the time it took Dean to be able to speak again, they were at the front door.

“Now I feel like I need to walk you to your car,” Dean pouted.

Castiel just smiled good-naturedly, shaking his head fondly. “Goodnight Dean.”

Dean kissed Cas on the nose. “Text me when you get home, okay?” He asked, trying not to sound like a worried boyfriend, though he knew he was epically failing.

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, “goodnight.” He smiled into the next kiss, adding a nice extra dollop of tongue action.

“Mm,” Dean grinned lazily, forgetting about his bruises, “goodnight.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Mm,” Dean settled further back onto Cas’ chest, “I like this.”

“Like what?” Castiel asked, only half concentrating as there was a television programme blaring out about the secret life of cats or something or other. It was teaching Cas all the shit Aniel got up to when he wasn’t looking. It was a good job Dean liked Cas else he would have threw himself out of the window half an hour ago. But he couldn’t help but find Cas’ eager eyes glued to the television screen endearing.

“This.” Dean patted Cas’ hands, which were wrapped around Dean’s middle to hold him close. They’d settled into the position an hour ago, slowly but surely getting closer and closer. And then when Dean had gone to pee and came back, Castiel had lifted his legs up onto the couch and Dean hadn’t had much choice but to settle between them. Cas’ chin rested on Dean’s shoulder as they watched the television comfortably, Cas nuzzling Dean’s jaw whenever an ad break came on.

“You –“ Dean licked his lips, self-conscious at admitting it, “you holding me.” He murmured. “Just don’t tell anyone I told you that.” He warned gruffly. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed about liking to be held, he just always got all flustered when he wanted to voice that aloud. He’d never been good at vocalising what he liked and didn’t liked in relationships

Castiel kissed Dean on the temple, awkwardly knocking his nose against Dean’s cheek but it didn’t matter. “There’s nothing wrong with liking to cuddle, Dean,” he replied, amusement in his tone.

“Cuddle?” Dean pretended to be horrified. “Oh god,” he groaned, “now you’ve made it worse.”

“Sorry,” Castiel mumbled jokingly, though he didn’t sound at all apologetic as he pulled Dean in tighter. Like Dean, Castiel was definitely a cuddle monster, wanting to be as close to the other as possible. Dean had wondered whether Cas would like shit like that, but then he’d remembered their first hug and how Cas had seemed starved of touch. In that respect, they were both the same, wanting someone to hold them without ever voicing it or making the effort to do it. That is, until now of course.

“Wish we’d have been doing this from the start, y’know?” Dean hummed, hovering his hands over Cas’ before placing them on top. “And not just from the start of when we were dating, but from the _start_ start.”

Castiel left a litter of kisses on Dean’s jaw, understanding how difficult it was for Dean to admit that aloud, to be so open with his affection. “You wouldn’t have been ready for this,” he murmured, so close to Dean’s ear that it made him shudder in the best way possible.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, slightly miserable at the thought, “I know. Just wish I would have been so we could have done this for longer.”

Castiel smiled against Dean’s cheek comfortingly. “Well, we still have all of the future. We can do what we like with it,” he kissed Dean’s cheekbone, “the best way to predict the future is to create it.”

Dean frowned. “How do you know that saying? You don’t normally know them. And that’s kind of a rare one as well. No one ever fucking says that really.”

“I don’t know.” Castiel shrugged, running his fingers up and down Dean’s stomach, which tickled Dean.

“My mom used to say that all the time,” Dean murmured, causing Cas’ hand to still.

“She did?” Castiel asked, surprised as he kissed Dean behind the ear.

“Mm,” Dean hummed, pushing himself further against Cas’ chest.

He was still irritated with himself for taking so long to be okay with this, with them cuddling up on the couch while they lazily made out and watched dumb television. Such a coupley thing to do. Why couldn’t Dean have realised that this was what he had wanted from the beginning? Why couldn’t he have stopped his stupid hetero mind frame and opened up a little more and seen what had been right there in front of him? On a different note, Dean had quickly realised that being friends with someone before dating them made things so much fucking easier so maybe it was best that it had taken them a while. Taken _Dean_ a while. Besides the initial awkwardness phase of switching from friends to a couple, unsure of what their boundaries were, their transition to being _this_ had actually been fucking easy. They already knew each other inside and out. It made everything so much simpler.

And he knew Cas was right. They had the future, something that was always scary and unknowable. But Dean hoped that the one constant thing was that Cas was going to be in it. That way they could slowly develop this, baby step after baby step, just like Dean’s therapy. From strangers to best friends who told each other things they never dared tell anyone else, to boyfriends who kissed, held hands, and cuddled on the couch. They were making it up as they went, but somehow it was all working out. Maybe this was how actual normal couples worked, taking things slow and steady, working up to things when both were comfortable. For them at least, it worked.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, forcing Dean out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?” Dean hummed back, putting more weight on Cas as he got comfortable. Maybe he could take a nap while Cas watched his shitty show. “I hope you’re not gonna ask me to move so you can have more tea because babe, that’s so not going to happen.” He said, not even joking. Not even a million bucks could make him move from his comfy spot right now.

Distracted, Castiel repeated, tongue in cheek. “Babe?”

“Shut up," Dean mumbled back, not quite putting enough strength into the words to make it a worthy comeback. Damn Cas and his cuteness for causing Dean to start rolling off dumb nicknames. It was all Cas’ fault.

Noting that Dean didn’t want to be made fun of for the pet name, Castiel chose not to delve into it further. “That’s not what I was going to ask.”

Twisting his head around, Dean properly looked Cas in the eye, who looked a mixture of nervous, awkward, and longing all at once. “What were you gonna ask?” Dean frowned, wondering what sort of fucking question could get such an array of emotions on Cas’ face.

Castiel kept eye contact, never one to shy away, as he asked with a nervous hitch to his voice. “Do you want to stay the night tonight?”

Absurdly, Dean’s first thought was that he didn’t have any socks to wear for tomorrow.

It was the question that Dean had been looking forward to, but dreading at the same time. Their first sleepover. Would they just be sleeping? Or was Castiel expecting more? _Wanting_ more? And did Dean want more? Dean wanted to stay the night, god dammit he did. He really, really fucking did. But he didn’t want to do anything that meant they had to be naked. He’d long since came to terms with the fact that he found Cas and his body smoking hot. But that didn’t mean he was ready to go all the way. Not yet. For some reason, Dean had a feeling Cas wasn’t ready either.

But the one thing that Dean definitely knew, out of all the confusion and worry and second guessing, he knew that he wanted to stay the night. If anything happened, it happened. But if it didn’t because the other found they weren’t ready or they just ended up passing out because they were tired, Dean was more than happy with that too. He just wanted to sleep with Cas’ arms wrapped around him just like they were now.

“I –“ Dean swallowed, voice quiet, “yeah.” He nodded.

“Okay.” Castiel smiled, looking relieved as he pecked the corner of Dean’s mouth.

“Okay,” Dean replied, relaxing back into Cas’ arms and fluttering his eyes shut as Cas continued to watch his show.

And that was that.

Until, that is, they were both brushing their teeth in tandem, giving each other private glances through the mirror as they brushed side by side. Aniel had even joined them, meowing and drinking from the flowing tap. Dean was still wearing his day clothes, Cas too, and Dean didn’t know whether he was going to be borrowing some of Cas’ pyjamas or whether he was going to be opting for boxers. He had no fucking clue how the night was going to go down.

After their mutual tooth brushing session, they made their way to Cas’ bedroom and the bed that Dean had been envious of ever since he’d first laid his eyes on it. The thing just looked so damn _comfy._

“Aniel sometimes sleeps on my bed,” Castiel explained as he threw off some of the extra pillows they wouldn’t need, “so don’t be alarmed if you wake up and you’re breathing in fur.”

Dean nodded, wanting to laugh but he was too fucking nervous. There was too much anticipation in the air, hanging over them like a thick smoke. Dean knew that Castiel could feel it too, by the way his fingers kept jumbling together and how he wouldn’t give Dean proper eye contact. And the guy sure loved to give eye contact millimetres from Dean’s face so there must have been something wrong.

“Hey,” Dean murmured, following Cas around the bed. Dean watched Cas’ shoulders rise and fall, a deep inhale and exhale, before he turned to meet Dean’s gaze. Dean fully intended to play the savior – stop the awkwardness, let Castiel know that everything would be okay – but of course he did the total fucking opposite and started giggling “What?” Castiel scowled, cheeks reddening even though he didn’t know what Dean was laughing at.

Dean grinned, using his thumb to wipe the toothpaste from the corner of Cas’ mouth. “You’ve got a little toothpaste –“ His smile faded as he swallowed, throat going dry as Castiel tilted his head just so. All of a sudden, it turned from amusing to something serious. Whether it was the gesture of Dean wiping something from Cas’ mouth, something completely intimate, or the way Cas was looking at him, face reverent and _expectant,_ but something changed.

“Dean,” Castiel said his name, like a prayer, throaty and needy.

And then they were kissing.  Unlike every other time they’d kissed, this was different, an urgency behind the force of their tongues. This time they knew it would be leading to something. What it _was_ going towards, Dean didn’t know, but that didn’t stop him from threading his fingers through Cas’ hair, moaning into his mouth when their tongues slid against each other in a feverish motion.

Cas’ hands settled onto Dean’s waist, fingers digging deeply into the fabric as he deepened the kiss even further, nearly making them fall. Slightly overwhelmed, Dean tugged on Cas’ hair a little, Cas gasping at the sensation as he sucked Dean’s bottom lip, running his tongue over the seam of his lips.

Soon they were stumbling onto the bed. First there was the awkward shuffle as they both managed to get all of their bodies on their bed at the right angle without a limb hanging over the edge. Cas’ head settled onto one of the many pillows. Their mouths barely moved from each other as they positioned themselves right; there was nothing elegant about them trying to find a comfortable position, but Dean didn’t care. By the looks of things, Castiel didn’t care either.

But then Castiel was on his back, Dean straddling his hips tightly as they continued to kiss. One of the pillows got in the way, falling onto Cas’ head.

“You might have too many pillows, Cas.” Dean snorted, grabbing the offending pillow with one hand and throwing it off the bed.

Forgetting where they were, what they were doing, and what they were about to do, Castiel looked up at Dean with the most serious of expressions. “One can never have too many pillows.”

“Dork,” Dean mumbled with a childish grin, sniggering as he kissed Cas on the mouth. Castiel huffed, but he soon forgot Dean’s torment as he tugged on Dean’s jeans like he wanted them off. Dean stopped the kiss to look Cas in the eye, a silent question on Cas’ features as he gripped the top of Dean’s jeans. Without saying anything, Dean nodded, biting his bottom lip. Castiel got the message, fumbling with the button and zip. Because Dean didn’t want to move from the spot, they only got his jeans to fall awkwardly around his thighs, but that was apparently enough for both of them for now as they settled into kissing again.

Exploring, Castiel pushed his hands down the curve of Dean’s back, sliding them down until they rested on the widest part of Dean’s ass, squeezing the globes as he guided Dean’s hips to move.

“Fuck," Dean groaned, hiding his face in Cas’ neck for a moment. Oh god, Cas was going to give him a heart attack.

It was Dean’s turn next, unbuttoning and unzipping Cas’ jeans like a pro. If there was anything that Dean was fucking good at it, it was getting someone undressed, even if his heart was hammering with nerves. He tugged the jeans down to Cas’ hips, exposing Cas’ boxers and the hardening line underneath the fabric. Dean was lost for breath for a moment, heart jittering to a stop as he realised what he was doing and who he was with. Fuck, Castiel was _gorgeous._

And then he realised with a frown that he was going to have to move so Cas’ jeans could be pulled off completely.

Groaning petulantly, earning a satisfied smirk from Cas, Dean moved off Cas’ hips. Now that he had the room though, Dean pulled his own jeans off properly, dropping them off the side of the bed, uncaring as to where they went. He felt Cas’ gaze on him and he looked up.

Castiel’s eyes softened as he smiled. “You’re very beautiful, Dean.”

“Shut up," Dean mumbled, embarrassed at the adoration that Cas was sending him.

“One day you’ll believe me," Castiel told him with a soft sigh. Dean kept silent, so Castiel didn’t say anything more on it. As always, Castiel knew when not to push. Castiel went to pull his jeans, fumbling with them for far too long.

“Here,” Dean murmured, placing his hands on top of Cas’ hands, squeezing gently to try and ease some of Cas’ nerves. They were both shaking, Dean realised, and it weirdly soothed his worries that he knew Cas was nervous too. Castiel looked up at him, pupils blown and breath heavy.

“It’s alright," Dean told him, letting his thumb glide over Cas’ hands.

“I know,” Castiel mumbled, lifting his head off the bed to softly capture Dean’s lips.

With Dean’s help, Cas tugged his jeans off.

Hungry to go back to straddling the guy, Dean still stopped himself to get an eyeful of Cas’ toned, endearingly hairy legs. Like the rest of him, they were tanned, with meaty thighs that Dean kind of wanted to be in between.

Fuck, why had Dean ever thought he was straight?

Wasting no time, Dean threw his legs over Cas, straddling him. But now there were no jeans between the two of them, just t-shirts and boxers. Boxers that were doing a shit job of constricting their fast oncoming boners. With a gulp, still terrified of doing this even though he knew he wanted it, Dean lowered down, slowly griding their hips together to see how it felt. And, consequently, grounding their cocks together. The sensation was like no other, of hardness pressed together, the reassurance that Cas was right there with him.

“Fuck, Cas," Dean rumbled, biting Cas’ bottom lip.

“Don’t – don’t stop,” Castiel gasped, already gone and they hadn’t even done anything yet. His hands scrambled for a moment, trying to find something to hold onto, until he settled into grabbing Dean’s hips. His fingers dug in so deep that Dean was certain that he was going to get bruises.

“Shh baby.” Dean kissed Cas eagerly on the mouth, pleased, rather than horrified, to feel the wetness on Cas’ boxers, the precome showing that they both wanted this. Fuck, Dean _really_ wanted this.

Hands gripped the bottom of Cas’ shirt, Dean sliding it up to let Cas know what he wanted. Eagerly, Castiel lifted his head off the pillow and grabbed onto his shirt. His method wasn’t exactly smooth, but it was less jumbly than when he’d tried to take his jeans off. It nearly caught around his head but it came off eventually. Clearly, Castiel wasn’t quite as well versed in this, not as much as Dean, or he was letting the bubble of nerves and excitement get the better of him.

When Cas’ shirt was finally out of the way, Dean was ready to explore every inch of new skin he hadn’t saw before. He wanted to suck bruises onto Cas’ collarbone, to kiss his ribs and slide his tongue between the ridges, to let his teeth toy with Cas’ nipples and see whether he liked the sensation as much as Dean did. Forget Dean’s nerves, Dean wanted to do _everything._

But he stopped in his tracks. Cas, however, did not, reaching up for a searing kiss that blindside Dean.

“Cas,” Dean pressed a hand onto Cas’ chest, able to hear his hammering heart, to still him, “wait.”

Instantly, Castiel stilled, something that Dean tucked into his memory to show, as expected, that even in the heat of the moment, Castiel knew when to stop. “What?” Cas asked, eyebrows knitting together worriedly as his fingers dug deeper into Dean’s waist.

“Your tattoos, Cas,” Dean gaped. “Holy shit.”

Castiel glanced down at his chest, blinking at his tattoos, like he’d somehow forgotten their existence. “Oh.” Castiel blinked again, still breathing heavily. “I’ve had them done over the years, just things here and there.” He said, like there was just a few scribbled tattoos, not the giant masterpieces that Dean saw.

Dean’s hands hovered over Cas’ smooth skin, torn between which tattoo to focus on first. “I’m guessing they all mean something to you?” He assumed. A guy like Cas wouldn’t get a tattoo for no reason other than it to look good, like the kids that hung around tattoo and coffee shops with beautiful designs on their arms just because. There had to be something behind each one of Cas’, a story or an explanation.

“Yes,” Castiel murmured.

Dean gazed over the expanse of Cas’ skin, fingertips gliding over the many tattoos. The first was on his shoulder, flowers – ones that Dean didn’t know the name of – bunched together, birds inked as if they were flying away from the bouquet, their wings outstretched as they mapped Cas’ chest. The birds were quite simply beautiful, outlined black and then coloured in so they looked like Cas had just sat down with an artist who had been bored and decided to paint Cas with watercolours. For the flowers on his shoulder, it was the same watercolour style, littering across his shoulder and down to his collarbone, like they’d outgrew their place. Dean was surprised that he hadn’t saw them when he’d unbuttoned Cas’ clothes to find the bruise from paintballing, but the bruise had been on the other side so he guessed he would never have known of the beauty displayed on the other side of Cas’ body.

More flowers were inked onto Cas’ arm, drawn around his elbow. Dean recognised those flowers, black and white daisies that were simply lined, giving them more of a delicate feel than some of the other designs. Dean ran his fingers over them, letting his fingers caress Cas’ skin until he reached Cas’ hand. He caught Cas’ fingers, holding onto them tightly.

Dean’s smile widened when he turned Cas’ hand around to realise that there was a tattoo just above Cas’ wrist, something that was always hidden because Cas was always wearing sweaters or long sleeved shirts that were too big for him. His habit for going to thrift stores hadn’t disappeared, not even now when he had enough money to go elsewhere. Not to mention that Cas always felt the cold; whether it was a leftover from being homeless or just a _Cas_ thing, Dean didn’t know, but he found it kind of cute.

The tattoo on Cas’ wrist was smaller than most of the others, a tiny cat’s face, whiskers and all.

“You have a cat.” Dean grinned fondly. “And what’s that on its nose?” He narrowed his eyes to try and figure it out, laughing when he realised what it was. “A bee?”

“I like bees,” Castiel replied, “and cats.”

“Yeah, I know you do.” Dean squeezed Cas’ hand, figuring that that tattoo had arrived on Cas’ skin after he’d moved here and adopted Anna.

Dean’s gaze turned to the scripture on Cas’ ribs, written in a language that Dean didn’t understand. “What’s this?”

“It’s Latin,” Castiel explained, squeezing Dean’s hand. “It’s meant for protection. I just –“ his tongue darted out to wet his lips, “I just wanted to have it.”

“You speak Latin?” Dean asked, only to garner a shrug from Castiel; the concept of Cas possibly knowing even an ounce of Latin didn’t surprise Dean. Not one bit. Cas was always full of surprises that Dean found daily.

Dean placed a hand on Cas’ chest, carefully putting it in the exact spot so he could feel Cas’ thrumming heart. It had calmed down somewhat, but it was still a steady beat that Dean could focus on. Many a time had Dean tried to subtly place his head on Cas’ chest so he could  feel Cas’ heart, helping him doze off as Cas watched another shitty show.

“Can’t believe you had these all along and I had no idea,” Dean said.

“Well, I don’t tend to walk around topless, Dean. Especially not in the colder months,” Castiel replied dryly.

Dean snorted, tickling Cas’ ribs. Cas wriggled underneath him, a short burst of laughter escaping him before he clamped his mouth shut. Huh, so Cas was ticklish then. Dean put that away in a part of his mind, telling himself that he needed to remember that for later.

There was another tattoo that travelled further down, from Cas’ left hip to underneath his boxers. Dean was tempted to see it, but he wasn’t ready to see Cas naked yet, not completely so. From what he could see of it, they were constellations, tiny stars and planets with lines drawn through certain stars to make a pattern. Dean couldn’t remember the pattern from his lessons with Bobby when he was a kid, so maybe it was one Cas had made up for himself. Dean smiled at the pattern on Cas’ skin as he thought back to their star talk on the balcony. It felt like years ago.

“Are these all of them?” Dean trailed his fingers over Cas’ chest absentmindedly. Still he felt like he hadn’t properly looked at the tattoos yet; if he could spend hours trawling over them, he still didn’t think it would be a long enough time.

Castiel swallowed, voice quiet. “I have another one on my back too.”

“Lemme see.” Dean replied, heaving himself off Cas so Cas had the space to turn over onto his stomach. Castiel gazed at Dean once more, hesitant, before moving to lay on his stomach, half his face shown to Dean, cheek pressed against the pillow.

If all of the rest of Cas’ tattoos were gorgeous, well, this was something different entirely. Across the span of his upper back, starting from the middle of his spine, two large black wings fanned out. They spread to the backs of his shoulders, down to the first parts of his forearm, making them look even more realistic. The wings were intricately inked. The detail gone into them were nothing short of award worthy. Woven into the wings, like Dean had grabbed some flowers from The Blooming Place and made a more detailed daisy chain, were blue flowers, contrasting against the black ink.

“Holy shit, Cas.” Dean hovered his hand over the wings, almost afraid to touch them, like they’d burn him. They looked so damn _real,_ like they were sprouting from Cas’ back, the man who was ready to spread his wings and fly away. “They’re beautiful.” He gasped, not knowing what else to say. Nothing could describe them.

“I had the wings done first,” Castiel explained, “and then I had the flowers added on afterwards, forget –“

“Forget me nots,” Dean finished off with a murmur, “your favourite.” He smiled, massaging the wings with gentle fingers. With a little imagination, he could pretend that the feathers moved to his touch, fluttering under him. “Why did you choose to have wings?”

“I had a dream once,” Castiel sighed, hiding his face further into the pillow, “whilst I was homeless. I dreamt that I grew wings and just flew away from everything, away from all of my problems, away from everything that was troubling me. I suppose it resonated with me.”

Dean bit his bottom lip. “Turn over.”

As instructed, Castiel turned onto his back, looking up at Dean expectantly. Wasting no time, Dean leant down to kiss Cas on the mouth, gentle and delicate. Sharing tattoos, laying down half naked and letting someone investigate your body like that was an intimate thing to do. Especially with someone like Castiel, where each tattoo meant something to him. Dean knew that Castiel wouldn’t let just anyone see them, not like he’d let Dean.

“Your tattoos are beautiful,” Dean whispered against Cas’ lips, “just like you.”

It was Dean’s way of saying thank you, his way to show Cas that he understood how difficult it was to expose himself like that. Showing someone your tattoos was almost like showing your soul, putting a little part of yourself into the other person’s hands as they ran their fingers over the ink.

Castiel lifted his head off the pillow to kiss Dean as a response, a bruising kiss that made Dean’s toes curl. Still kissing, tongues sliding against each other in the best way possible, lips spit slick, Dean went back to his old position of straddling Cas’ hips. As they kissed, Dean let his hands wander over the expanse of Cas’ bare skin, fingertips lingering on the spots that Dean knew were inked. It was a magical feeling to know that he’d been one of the rare few who’d gotten to see Cas’ tattoos, who knew the story behind them. Perhaps he was the only one entirely.

“Do you have any tattoos?” Castiel murmured between a kiss, out of breath.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, voice just as quiet, like they were in church, “just one.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, sitting up more so as he could throw off his t-shirt. He never told anyone about his tattoo. It was just something he hid away. Even with his past sexual conquests over the years, he’d never explained it when a woman had asked, distracting her with a flick of a tongue or finger. His tattoo was one of the most private parts about him, even if it was on a more public part of his body, but he was going to let Cas see it and, more importantly, _understand_ it. Just like he’d let him see everything else about him.

Twisting a little on Cas’ hips, Dean made it so Cas could properly see his left forearm. There, faded now over the years, was the red tattoo of a handprint. It wasn’t fully filled in, Dean had made sure that the tattooist had done is exactly as he remembered it. Fingers and thumb half outlined, the palm of the hand barely filled in apart from the outskirts. All in all, it had looked like someone had put their hand in red paint and splatted it against Dean’s arm.

“A hand print?” Castiel asked, eyebrows knitting together as he tried to understand, even going as far as to sitting up with Dean, having to hold onto Dean’s waist to help get himself up without toppling them both over. Castiel peered at the tattoo again. “And initials?”

“Mom and Dad’s,” Dean explained, feeling more and more exposed the further Castiel looked at it. “Did I ever tell you about how I woke up from the crash?”

“No.” Cas’ fingers soothingly ran up and down Dean’s sides, garnering Dean enough courage to tell the story.

“When we crashed, I remember the truck coming at us. That split second of thinking _‘oh shit, we’re going to die.’_ And I remember waking up,” Dean kept his gaze on Cas, using him as an anchor, “but I wasn’t in the car anymore. At first, I thought maybe I’d smashed through the window. But that couldn’t have – where I’d landed, it didn’t make sense. And I wasn’t covered in glass either. I was a couple of feet away.” He explained, his memory hazy about it now. All of it was so confusing, he sometimes wondered whether he remembered it right.

“At the time, I was too messed up to wonder how the fuck I’d gotten there. Maybe, I’d just climbed out of the car and my head had been too much of a mess to remember it. Anyway, when the doctor’s finally examined me, when I actually let them, they didn’t find a mark on me.” Dean shook his head bitterly, still angry of that fact. “Not one thing from the crash. They said it was a miracle,” Dean practically spat, “a miracle that killed my parents and put my brother in my hospital.” Dean huffed, murmuring under his breath. “There’s no such things as miracles.”

Dean cleared his throat, letting himself calm down by the light massage of Cas’ fingers, which helped Dean from going completely over the deep end. “Uh,” he continued, calmer now, “I was unmarked except for one thing.”

“A handprint,” Castiel replied, easily guessing.

Dean nodded, stilling one of Cas’ hands so he could hold onto it. “A handprint.” He agreed. “Like someone had grabbed onto me as tight as they could. I don’t know, I figured maybe it was someone who pulled me out, I mean, it would make sense as to how I got to the side of the road. Maybe someone pulled me out and then went back to the car to help everyone else and that’s why I never saw them.” Dean tried to rationalise, because even now he didn’t know where the bruise had come from, not really. “I don’t know, it could have somehow been my mom too, or my dad in the backseat.” He murmured, breath hitching. It had been too big a bruise to be his mother’s but there were always doubts in Dean’s head. Everything was so jumbled. “Either way, it was the only mark I had, the only bruise. And I wanted to keep it. No one really got why I wanted to but –“

“It was the only mark you had from the event,” Castiel cupped Dean’s jaw, “you wanted to keep it as proof that you’d gone through it, that you hadn’t come through it unhurt like your body led you to believe.” Castiel’s thumb gently smoothed over Dean’s cheekbones, catching the stray tear that Dean hadn’t even noticed had fallen. “Because while you didn’t have a remnant such as a scar, it still hurt you just as much, but you were strong enough to survive.”

“Yeah.” Dean exhaled, feeling complete relieved that someone, _finally,_ understood. “That’s exactly why.” His voice shook. He looked at Cas, smiling gratefully that somehow, with the help of a lost bedraggled cat, they had found each other. Castiel mirrored the smile; he lifted his fingertips to his own lips, kissing them before pressing them to the initials that were inked onto Dean’s skin.

“Thanks, Cas," Dean whispered, squeezing Cas’ hand.

“There’s nothing to thank.” Castiel kissed the corner of Dean’s mouth, a small, gentle thing that made Dean feel like he was being wrapped in cotton wool. Or that Cas’ tattoo had come true and he was wrapping him up with his wings.

All eagerness to do _something_ was gone. They both knew it. After having such a heavy topic like they’d just done, of showing each other something so intimately, it just didn’t feel right to carry on tumbling into an orgasm. Neither of them felt it now, the all-encompassing need to reach it right there and then.

Castiel leant back so his head was on the pillow, arms outstretched and waiting for Dean to accept the invitation. Dean smiled down at Cas, kissing him once more on the lips. This time it was gentle, a simple capture of Cas’ bottom lip for barely two seconds. After that, Dean twisted his body and settled onto Cas, resting his head over Cas’ heart. He could hear the steady thrum of Cas’ heartbeat, a lullaby that Dean would be thankful for.

“You make a comfy pillow,” Dean mumbled, tired all of a sudden.

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean, one around his waist, one resting against the back of Dean’s head and neck. “I’m glad.” He replied earnestly.

Dean didn’t know why, but the sincerity of Cas’ reply amused him. “You’re the biggest dork I know, you know that?” He snorted, letting his fingertips trail over the flowers on Cas’ shoulder.

With a gentle press on Dean’s temple, Castiel yawned. “I don’t mind having that label.”

“Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight.”

Only it wasn’t a good night for Dean. Even with the surroundings of a comfy bed and Cas’ gentle arms wrapped around him that made him feel safe and warm. Whether it was because of the things they’d discussed or because it was just one of _those_ nights, Dean couldn’t settle down into sleep. He tried counting sheep, listening to Cas’ steady breathing and soft snores, he even tightened Cas’ arms around him to make himself feel even more wrapped up. But none of it worked.

Knowing that he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, Dean ever so carefully moved out of Cas’ grip. It took him a good fifteen minutes to move out of bed, having to stop every few seconds to see whether Cas was stirring. The last thing Dean wanted to do was wake Cas up when he was sleeping so soundly. When even Cas’ cute scrunched up face wasn’t going to soothe Dean into sleep, he knew nothing was. Trust Dean to fuck up their first sleepover.

With nothing else to do, Dean retired to the living room, tucking his knees up to his chin as he switched the television on, leaving it on some dumb western with the noise turned down and the subtitles on. Dean was too tired to find something good that he wanted to watch. Too tired for that but apparently not too tired to sleep.

Yawning, Dean huddled himself closer together, feeling the chill in the air. For some reason, it seemed that the early oncoming spring had given up and was taking back the warmth again. Oh well, Dean would just have to deal with it. He couldn’t be bothered to hunt down a blanket or go get a coffee to warm him inside out, so he settled for a cushion. He cuddled it to him in the hopes that it might stave off the chill.

Ten minutes into watching the western, there was a padding down the stairs, making Dean frown. Unless Aniel had grown ten times her size, there could only be one other person. Illuminated by the stair lighting behind him, Castiel appeared in the doorway looking mighty dishevelled, but concerned, the comforter wrapped around him.

“Cas, hey,” Dean said, unsure of what to say.

“Dean.” Castiel seemed relieved to see him, though Dean wasn’t completely sure why. What, had he thought that Dean had been dragged out by Anna and mauled to death? Come to think of it, that seemed a likely affair.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Castiel asked, leaning against the doorway.

“No,” Dean shook his head, “but don’t take it personally. S’not your fault.”

“You should have woken me," Castiel murmured sincerely.

Dean shrugged. “It’s stupid for us both to be up when we don’t need to be. When _you_ don’t need to be. Makes sense.” He yawned.

“Well, I’m up now. I woke up and saw you were gone and I thought…” Cas huddled himself with his arms, tightening the comforter around him. “Aren’t you cold?” He switched the subject.

“Kinda.” Dean shrugged again, the goosebumps on his arms and legs evident. He hadn’t quite thought ahead upstairs and figured that it might be a good idea to put some of his clothes back on. Or to at least grab a blanket along the way. God, he was a dumbass.

Castiel nodded, as if reading his mind. He walked over to Dean, pressing a small kiss on Dean’s forehead as he climbed onto the couch. “What are you watching?” He asked with a yawn, swivelling himself on the other end of the couch to push his legs up.

“Some western movie,” Dean explained as he followed Cas’ lead, tiredly crawling between Cas’ legs and along his torso until his nose was nuzzling Cas’ jaw. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions but at the exact same time it was, Cas’ arms wrapping tightly around his waist, his head tilting to press his lips gently to Dean’s temple. Castiel waited until Dean was settled before he threw the comforter over the two of them, the warmth from Cas using it evident on the material.

“Are those the good guys?” Castiel asked, yawning another time to make Dean feel even worse that he’d accidentally woken him up. Dean should have just stayed in bed with Cas and kept his mouth shut. At least then Cas would still be fast asleep.

“Nope,” Dean replied, “the bad guys. They’re winning at the moment, but that’ll change by the end of the movie. All westerns are the same, it’s dumb.”

Amused, Castiel asked against Dean’s temple. “Why is it dumb that the good guys win?”

“Because that’s not how the fucking world works, Cas,” Dean explained tiredly. “You and I both know it.”

Castiel was silent for a moment, considering it. He always thought about what he was going to say, especially when it came to important things. Even more so when he knew that Dean would most likely think back to it again one day. “Perhaps movies let the good guys win to instil hope in people, to let them know that sometimes good people do get what they deserve,” he proposed.

“Hmm," Dean hummed, too tired to argue anything different even though he didn’t agree. It didn’t really matter that they didn’t have the same opinion, hell, Dean kind of wished he had Cas’ positivity. He was distracted anyway when he noticed a black mark on Cas’ forearm, hidden underneath where his forearm would press against his ribs.

“Hey, I missed this tattoo.” Dean pressed his finger against it, squinting in the dark light. “Your name?” He said dubiously, wondering if he was seeing it right.

Castiel tensed up, letting Dean know that this was a personal one even if it didn’t seem like it. Realising his tactless mistake, Dean lifted his head to nuzzle at Cas’ jaw, his way of apologising and also letting Cas know he could talk if he wanted to. Or if he didn’t want to, that was okay too.

“It’s there just in case I –“ Cas’ voice was barely a whisper but Dean still heard the crack in his voice, “in case I forget everything again.”

With those simple words, Dean felt like his heart had actually broken.

“The doctor’s never found out the true cause of what happened, why I forgot everything. That means it could happen again for all I know.” Castiel continued, voice wavering. “This way I have my name and I’ll be able to be fitted back with the identity I have. I can get everything back without anyone needing to find me.”

“Cas.” Dean lifted himself off Cas’ chest to look him in the eye because this shit was fucking _important._ “You never have to worry about that again.” He promised. “If something happens like that, then I’m gonna be there holding your hand and helping you remember everything. And you never _ever_ have to worry about no one coming to look for you. I swear Cas, if you ever disappear because you’ve forgotten who you are, I won’t stop until I find you.” He kissed Cas forcibly on the mouth to prove his point, to seal his promise. “You never have to worry that you’ll be alone not knowing who you are. You never have to go through that again, Cas.” He murmured against Cas’ mouth.

“ _Dean._ ”

“I promise, baby,” Dean replied, because he did. Never again would Cas wake up in a hospital bed without anyone looking for him. Without anyone going to the ends of the earth for him. Never again would Cas have to be homeless, to live off meal to meal without knowing when the next one would come. Never again would Castiel feel alone. Never again would Castiel be lost.

The promise resonated with Castiel, fingers digging into Dean’s waist as he reached up to kiss Dean. Dean kissed back just as eagerly, gripping Cas’ forearm as he turned his body to lay parallel on top of Cas. Dean understood that Cas was using actions to show his words just like Dean did. Sometimes, doing rather than saying worked just as well.

Just like before, they were back into it. This time, however, it was less feverish, less hurried. There was just a lazy slide of Dean’s hips back and forth, back and forth, as he pressed gentle kisses to Cas’ mouth, jaw and neck. Altogether, their movements were sloppy. Both of them were tired. But they both needed this. Needed to be together. Needed each other to hold onto.

“Dean," Castiel moaned, bucking his hips up to meet Dean.

The feeling of them sliding together, Cas’ hands digging into Dean’s hip bones, of Dean controlling the steady movement as they kissed, this was more than enough for Dean. If he could bottle the feeling, the actions, the sensation, he would, savouring it over and over.

Neither of them tried to go any further, they didn’t try to take off each other’s or their own boxers. Dean was thankful for that. He wasn’t ready and apparently neither was Cas. That would have to wait another day. But that didn’t mean that Dean didn’t enjoy it when Castiel’s hands roamed, squeezing the globes of his ass he tried to hurry the writhe of Dean’s hips.

“Fuck,” Dean cursed under his breath, close to a whimper as he dropped his head to rest against Castiel’s. Dean’s unrealised hopes came true as Castiel took Dean’s moan as encouragement, sliding his hands down the back of Dean’s boxers to squeeze Dean’s ass again. This time there was no material between their skin. It made them all the more closer, their boxers wet and writhing against each other, the hard line of their cocks pressed as tight as their bodies would allow.

“Is this,” Castiel squeezed Dean’s ass, “is this okay?”

“Fuck. Yes. Fuck," Dean groaned, moving his hips faster.

“D – Dean,” Castiel gasped, the name the only word he could apparently manage this far along, a broken prayer between their wet lips in the darkness with only a dimly lit television to curb their way. Castiel was close, Dean could tell by the way his pupils were dilated, the way his mouth was a pretty little ‘o’ between kisses as all the unspoken words were punched out of him as the pressure built and built.

“Cas," Dean groaned his name back, his movements becoming more frenzied now that they were so close. Normally, Dean was pretty good at holding off, staving off the edge of orgasm. But with Cas underneath him, nails digging into skin, little breathless gasps and moans, and the feeling of Cas’ hard cock underneath his? Dean was having trouble holding on.

“Feels –“ Castiel shuddered, “feels so good. You feel so- _oh_.”

“I’ve got you,” Dean promised against Cas’ mouth, cupping Cas’ jaw with shaking fingers, his other hand steadying himself, splayed onto Cas’ chest where the birds were displayed. Wings outstretched with nowhere to go.

Castiel came first, a broken moan with his head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut as he dampened his boxers with pulses of come. Dean felt it alongside heard it, making him nip at Cas’ neck and bury his nose against the skin, uncaring of the sweat that had built there. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long until Dean was coming too, face still hidden against Cas’ neck as he shuddered through it.

Barely recovered, Dean had no energy to lift his head to kiss Cas on the lips, neither did Cas seem to be in the mood to move from their sticky mess either. Instead, they settled with Cas kissing Dean on his sweaty forehead.

“Fuck,” Dean said, hoping that the word would showcase the sentiment behind it.

Castiel huffed, hands coming out of Dean’s boxers to instead wrap around Dean’s middle, a tight embrace that told Dean that even if he’d wanted to move, he wouldn’t have been allowed. Dean tiredly shuffled around to get a better position, his lower body settling between Cas’ legs, just like how he’d wanted when he’d first caught sight of Cas’ thighs.

At some point during their time of groaning and grinding, the comforter had fallen on the floor. Dean plucked it up, lazily dragging it up over the two of them. They were already warm now, sweat cooling on their bodies, but Dean knew that would soon change. Especially for Cas, who always had some kind of chill.

“You missed the ending of your movie.” Castiel said against Dean’s hair, sounding close to sleep.

Dean made a noise to signal that he didn’t give a fuck about the movie. He never really had. “Maybe you were right,” he mumbled against Cas’ skin. “Maybe it’s a good thing that the good guy’s win in westerns.”

Castiel squeezed Dean’s waist. “Maybe.”


	13. Chapter 13

A grunt of a snore into Dean’s hair pushed him into consciousness. Groaning, Dean rubbed at his eyes, cracking them open to the living room. He groaned all the more when he remembered that he and Cas had never made it to the bedroom, television still on in the background.

Nearly falling on his ass in the process, Dean carefully left the couch and a sleeping Castiel, tucking Cas back in so he wouldn’t get cold. As soon as he was upright, he yawned and stretched his muscles. Which was a mistake, a drastic fucking mistake as his neck protested, creaking like it belonged to an eighty year old man.

“Shit,” Dean muttered, knowing he had no one to blame other than himself for falling asleep on the couch and using Cas as a pillow for the night. With one final glance at Castiel, who was still sleeping soundly, Dean padded his way upstairs quickly, hoping the quick movement would warm up his rapidly cooling body. He was ready to take a damn shower, get out of his ruined boxers and warm up in the process.

First, Dean made his way to the bedroom, cursing himself for not initially being able to sleep last night, else he would have been comfortably sleeping on the bed right now rather than having a crick in his neck.

Sighing, Dean rooted in Cas’ clothes, finding a spare pair of boxers, some socks, and a deep green sweater that looked like it would fit him okay. He’d have to roll the sleeves up if needs be. He could just wear his jeans from last night, he supposed, finding them on the floor where he’d threw them last night.

Anna appeared then, walking between his legs and, in a rare moment, rubbing her face against his ankles. “Hey Anna.” Dean smiled, pleased that Anna was slowly starting to appreciate him being around the house. It was a far cry from their first meeting. Anna meowed and suddenly decided that was enough affection for one day, trotting down the stairs with her head held high. She was probably trying to find out where the hell Cas was, Dean realised.

The shower was short, a quick burst of nearly scalding water to help wake him up some more. Sleeping in someone else’s house always set him up in a weird mood. Not necessarily a bad mood, but it always took some adjusting. But he hoped that this would become more of a frequent thing, something he could easily get used to. After last night and where it had eventually led them, Dean had a feeling it was going to be.

By the time Dean had thrown on yesterday’s jeans and borrowed clothes and stumbled back downstairs, Castiel was awake on the couch. Not by choice of course, but by a little ginger cat licking his face.

“Hey.” Dean grinned, standing behind Cas’ head, running a hand through Cas’ unruly hair.

“Hello,” Castiel mumbled sleepily, tipping his head back so he could look at Dean upside down.

“Probably best that you get up soon if you want to shower and eat before we head to work,” Dean scratched Cas’ scalp soothingly, “it’s a good thing that I woke up or we wouldn’t have gotten up.”

“Hmmph,” Castiel replied, scooping up Anna and putting her on his lap so he could sit up. Eyes bleary, he winced when he was finally in an upright position, hand coming up to grip the junction between his neck and shoulder.

“Sore neck, huh?” Guess that’s our fault for sleeping on the couch,” Dean said, quickly catching on that Castiel definitely wasn’t the best in the morning. The only time Dean had seen Cas this early was when he’d been sick and he’d assumed that, for the most part, the grumpiness had been solely because of man flu. Apparently Cas’ grumpiness was more of a permanent thing. Oh well, Cas could get away with it.

Castiel made another noise that Dean guessed meant he was agreeing with him. Dean laughed, ruffling Cas’ hair.

Squinting, Castiel looked up at him. “Have you already showered?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, itching for a coffee, “I’ve borrowed some of your clothes,” he stated the obvious, peering down at the sweater, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” Castiel yawned, jaw stretching.

“Just this,” Dean pointed at the sweater, “and some socks and boxers. I, er, kinda ruined them last night.” Dean felt his cheeks reddening, which was ridiculous. He wasn’t some eighteen year old blushing, pure virgin for christ’s sake. Dean cleared his throat. “You should probably go have your shower. We don’t want to be late.”

Castiel nodded, standing up with a pitiful groan, like he’d been asked to build the next Noah’s ark in a day, or find a needle in a barn full of haystacks, not to just have a shower. Before leaving the room like Dean expected, Cas shuffled over to Dean, slotting his arms around Dean’s neck to pull him close so he could plant a sloppy kiss on Dean’s mouth. Dean hummed in appreciation as he wrapped his arms around Cas’ bare waist.

“Mm. Nice morning breath,” Dean teased, nuzzling their noses together.

“Oh,” Castiel’s forehead crinkled, “sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” Dean shook his head, because of course Cas had taken him seriously. “Go have your shower. I’ll make us some breakfast while I wait.”

“Okay,” Castiel replied, yawning again.

“Okay grumpy.” Dean kissed Cas’ frown before letting him go. Without any shame whatsoever, Dean watched him leave, appreciating the view of Cas’ half naked body now that there was more light for him to see it. Yep, Dean definitely fucking liked Cas’ body. Why had he ever thought differently?

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts and stop himself from being such a pervert, Dean made him way to the kitchen, starting up breakfast and setting up the tea ready for Cas’ arrival. Oh, and he made a much needed cup of coffee for himself. At least now Cas had gotten a coffee machine, especially bought for Dean’s constant visits.

Fifteen minutes and a several gulps of coffee later, Castiel was shuffling into the kitchen, hair dripping in a way that made Dean worry that he was going to catch a cold again. At least he was wearing a thick striped sweater and fuzzy socks, Dean supposed. That didn’t stop Dean from wanting to wrap him in a blanket.

“Feeling better now that you’ve showered?” Dean asked, switching the kettle on now that Cas was back. Noncommittedly, Castiel shrugged, his lips stretching into a somewhat bashful smile when Dean opened his arms and gestured for Cas to come to him. As expected, Cas followed his request, slotting between Dean’s arms with a content sigh. The closeness between them, the ease in which they were cuddling, just like that, was new. Normally, it took one or the other to be courageous and make the first move to initiate cuddling like this. Either it was their heart to heart last night, their dry humping on the couch, or just a simple gradual progression, but Dean was happy that they were not easily doing it without a thought or second guessing. They’d reached the next stage of their relationship, he realised, and Dean couldn’t have been happier.

“You haven’t dried your hair properly.” Dean frowned, unable to stop himself from commenting on it.

“I’ll put it through the hair dryer before we leave if you’re so worried,” Castiel replied, nuzzling Dean’s jaw with his nose.

“Okay.” Dean agreed, nearly jumping out of his skin when the microwave pinged. “Here, have some pancakes.” He outstretched an arm to open the microwave, Castiel not moving from the hug any time soon. The waft of pancakes already had Dean’s mouth watering. “They’re not as good as the ones you make from scratch but they’ll have to do.” He added, trying to drop them onto plates with one hand because Cas was still attached to him.

“Thank you,” Castiel murmured happily.

“You’re welcome babe.” Dean kissed Cas’ temple, choosing to stick with the pet names because why the fuck shouldn’t he. “But you, er, might want to let go of me so we can actually eat them.”

“Oh,” Cas huffed, finally letting go of Dean’s middle. He didn’t seem too broken hearted when he had a plate of pancakes and syrup put in front of him though. As Dean expected from a sugary lover like Cas, he threw on a less than healthy amount of syrup, squirting it into a smiley face on top of his pancakes before dolloping it all over the joint. Sometimes Dean wondered how Cas managed to walk around like a normal human being when he liked so much sugar. Or how he wasn’t 500 pounds. They guy liked to run though, so maybe his evening jogs helped him keep the toned shape that he was in. That or he was an alien.

At first, their breakfast was mostly quiet, Castiel gulping down his food and tea heartily, while Dean took his time. There was a gentle kicking underneath the table though, something that Dean would be happy to call footsy, even if they were in their late twenties and weren’t thirteen anymore.

Castiel licked his sugary lips, starting up a conversation with warm eyes. “Last night was…”

“Awesome,” Dean finished off with a grin, meaning both the tattoo showing and awesome fucking sex.

Cas’ eyes crinkled. “Yes,” he agreed, looking down at his pancakes before sliding his eyes back up to Dean.

Dean took one of his remaining sips of coffee, wondering whether to ask what was plaguing his mind a little. He didn’t want to sound like some desperate, needy guy. But he also needed to get the bottom of his concerns right now before his self-deprecating made it worse. Huh, maybe therapy was teaching him a lot more than he thought.

“Was –“ he hated the hesitation in his voice, “was I okay?”

From the last time Cas had spoken to now that Dean was asking the question, Castiel had gotten straight back into devouring the rest of his pancakes. The guy was too busy thinking about food to pay attention to a conversation that they’d had a mere five seconds ago.

“I don’t understand.” He frowned.

“I know you said last night was good and everything,” Dean rambled, waving his hands in the hopes that it would distract from how vulnerable he sounded, “but, I was okay at it, right? It’s just – I’ve never done that before.” He admitted, like Cas didn’t already know that.

Unlike Dean expected, Castiel smiled, swallowing another mouthful of pancake. “Neither have I,” he confessed.

Dean spluttered. “But you’re gay!”

“Yes,” Castiel nodded, amused, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t be a virgin, Dean.”

“Wait,” Dean felt like his brain was short-circuiting, “you’d never had sex? Not until last night?”

“No.” Castiel shook his head, pulling a troubled face that made Dean want to hug him. “Well, at least from what I’m aware. I don’t know anything before the amnesia of course. But from what I can remember, I’ve never done anything before.” He smiled cautiously at Dean. “You’ve been my first everything.”

And then Dean came to a troubling thought.

“I was your first kiss?” he asked, feeling faint and wishing he could punch himself in the face.

“Yes.” Castiel nodded, seemingly not seeing the problem with that.

“And I fucked it up.” Dean’s heart sunk, hating himself more than a little. “I’m sorry, Cas.” He mumbled, heartfelt. He’d never wanted to ruin any of Cas’ first experiences, not like that. He already hated how their first kiss had ended, but knowing it was Cas’ first ever kiss in his life made things even worse.

Castiel abandoned his tea and pancakes to reach over and take Dean’s hand. “Dean, it’s fine. I wouldn’t have wanted it with anyone else. Yes, the direct aftermath of it wasn’t exactly enjoyable. And it wasn’t really enjoyable for you either, I know. But it led us to this.” He squeezed Dean’s hand to prove it. “And the kiss itself was –“ he flashed Dean a gummy smile, “very satisfying.”

Dean found himself smiling, relaxing somewhat at Cas’ words. He still felt like a shitty boyfriend, but he was at least feeling a little better about the situation. “Well, it was your first kiss. Something had to go wrong I guess.” He shrugged.

“Why,” Castiel frowned, “is that a universal thing?”

“Pretty much,” Dean supposed aloud. “My first kiss was pretty awful. I’d never kissed anyone before but the girl had. She knew what she was doing. And I didn’t have a fucking clue. By the look on her face, she hated it just as much as I did.” He grinned, remembering how god damn awful it had been. Not to mention the first time he’d used tongue and it had felt like he was swishing his tongue around like a washing machine.

“You know what,” Dean realising, pointing his fork at Cas, “you are far too good a kisser for me to be your first. I’m calling bullshit.” He joked.

Castiel pretended to be bashful, which he failed at miserably; Cas was awful at lying or pretending to be anything but straight to the point. “Apparently some of us are just naturally talented.”

“Fuck you,” Dean retorted, grinning. Cas just smiled back and went back to his pancakes.

It wasn’t until they were ready to leave that Castiel made a sudden realisation. “You’re going to be cold.”

“You’re driving, it’ll be okay,” Dean replied, not really thinking much of it. Even though the house was a little chilly, it didn’t mean that it was going to be downright freezing outside. It was spring.

“You should borrow a coat.” Cas was still frowning.

“Cas, I’m fine,” Dean complained, pushing his hands in his pockets as he considered how cold it really was going to be outside. The more he thought about it, the more he realised it was going to be colder than he realised. And there was always a chill in the garage no matter what he or Bobby did too.

“At least a hat and gloves,” Castiel offered. “You said so last night, Dean, it’s cold today.” He looked at him carefully, reading his mind in that freaky way he did. “And it’s always cold in the garage.”

“Fine,” Dean harrumphed, knowing that Cas wasn’t going to relent on this one. And Dean was kind of realising that Cas was actually right as well. Not that he was going to admit that aloud. “Give me some then, so long as they don’t have cats on them.” He was half joking, half being deadly serious. If anyone was going to have gloves that had whiskers on them, it was going to be Cas.

“They don’t have cats on them. Or any other animal for that matter.” Cas pouted, though Dean could see a glint in his eyes. He’d given Cas an idea, that was for sure. Maybe Dean could find some mittens out there that were in the spring sale that had cats on them. Maybe.

Castiel shuffled off, grabbing his beloved trench coat before rooting around until he came up with a plain grey hat and gloves to match. “Here.” He handed them to Dean, not taking no for an answer. “They should keep you a little warm at least.”

“Okay,” Dean agreed, shoving the hat on his head and peeling the gloves on, not having the heart to explain to Cas that as soon as he got to the garage, he’d have to take the gloves off because he couldn’t work with anything on his hands that might make things slippery.

“Ready to go?” Dean asked, offering Cas his newly gloved hand.

Castiel took it. “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

“Nice hat and glove combo you got there,” Bobby remarked as soon as Dean walked into the garage.

Dean scowled. “You look scrubbed up today,” he deflected, though it was a genuine observation. Bobby was hatless, so much a rare occurrence that Dean thought the guy looked naked without it. Unlike his usual rugged appearance, he had one of his better shirts on, jeans that were clean, nothing grim or dirty in sight.

“Going on a date?” Dean teased. For all the time Dean had known Bobby, not once had he gone on a date. Not since his wife had died when Dean had been around ten. It had been an awful death, a simple fall down the stairs that had resulted in Bobby having to choose to take her off life support, something that he still felt made him to blame for his wife’s death. Since then, Bobby hadn’t mentioned another woman, not even Ellen, who Jo and Dean had bets on.

Bobby went to twiddle with his hat, hand falling limply to his side when he remembered it wasn’t on his head. “If you must know,” he grumbled, “yes, I am.”

Surprised, Dean pulled off his gloves, not quite knowing what to say. “You are, huh?”

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Bobby grimaced, looking so done with the entire thing when he hadn’t even started it yet.

Dean frowned; he had no idea what look he’d been giving him so he couldn’t control his face to stop it. “How come you’re dressed so nicely now though?” He asked wondering why he was dressing up at all. Ellen had saw Bobby in his worst state, she wouldn’t give a fuck as to what he was dressed like. He doubted Ellen would be throwing on a dress for the affair anyway.

“I’m meeting her at lunch and I didn’t want to go in my worst,” Bobby explained, looking so damn uncomfortable with the conversation. “I’ve just got to keep clean until then, so you’ve got all the dirty work this morning, you owe me kiddo.”

Dean didn’t bother to ask what the hell he owed Bobby for, the guy would only pull some random thing out of his ass from ten years ago. Something about how Dean had once dropped something on Bobby’s foot or some shit. Not to mention that Dean did technically owe Bobby as he’d been let off early to help a sick Cas. Come to think of it, Bobby let him get away with a lot of shit most of the time. “Why not just have a date for another time?” He asked, because it made sense. It beat Bobby having to tiptoe around the garage the entire morning avoiding any sign of mess.

“It’s the only time she had free this week,” Bobby said with a half beaten shrug.

Now Dean was even more confused. “Wait, what?” He frowned. Sure, Ellen was busy at the bar but she could force Jo into doing another shift one night so she could go on a date, surely? Jo would oblige if she knew it meant Bobby and Ellen getting together.

“She’s busy, she works in the police force,” Bobby looked at Dean like he was being an idiotic weirdo, “you’ve met her, Jody.”

Dean remembered Jody, short hair, confident, not taking any shit. And he also remembered how she’d slaughtered Sam on the paintballing field. She was awesome. But that didn’t stop Dean from growing rapidly pissed at the situation. “What about Ellen?” He folded his arms.

Bobby looked at Dean like he was the biggest idiot going. “What about her?”

Dean frowned, wondering whether he’d somehow gotten this terribly wrong. “I thought that you …” He trailed off as soon as he realised that Bobby was looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

Bobby looked close to throwing something at him, in fact his eyes even glanced around to see if there was anything nearby that he could hit against Dean’s head that wouldn’t result in a concussion. All he found were Dean’s borrowed gloves, but they came sharply against Dean’s chest when Bobby struck them at him. “Ellen and I are just friends you idjit!” He barked, looking unsure of whether to laugh or get mad.

Dean caught the gloves before they fell to the floor, slapping Bobby back with them. “Hey, it’s not just me who thought it!” He went on the defensive.

Bobby glared at him. “Who the hell else thought it?”

“Jo.” Dean replied without even a thought for his friend. Fuck, if he was going down, he was taking Jo down with him.

“Then you’re both as dumb as the other!” Bobby remarked, shaking his head as he huffed and puffed. “Ellen and I are friends. Always have been, always will be. I knew her damn husband! Ellen doesn’t want anyone, least of all me. She’s happy by herself.” He pointed at Dean. “And I don’t want Ellen either.”

Dean’s shoulders drooped. He’d always hoped that they’d get together. He’d just been so _sure_ that that was what they both wanted deep down, too afraid to take the first step or something. And all along, Dean had been completely wrong and there’d been no romance in the first place. Then again, he’d been just as dumb about his own life, not realising he had feelings for Cas at all until he’d accidentally initiated a kiss. Apparently Dean was terrible at this. He’d make a terrible fucking matchmaker. He’d leave it to Charlie from now on.

“I was right about Jo though. About her and Victor,” Dean mumbled, happy to point out that he’d gotten at least one thing right. He might have gotten Bobby and Ellen drastically mixed up, but he’d figured out Jo and Victor _ages_ ago. Now, they were happily dating, smug as ever, but yelling at anyone who commented on their cuteness. The two were suited through and through.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, looking unamused. “Well, that was just obvious. Doesn’t mean you’re the next Sherlock.”

“Whatever.” Dean rolled his eyes. He looked at Bobby then, properly looked at him, and realised how nervous the old guy was. He never saw Bobby get nervous about anything, he was always so sure of himself. If Dean were mean, he’d make fun of him for it now that he had the limited opportunity, but knowing why Bobby probably felt so damn nervous made Dean stop himself. “Jody seems cool.” He offered. “I think you guys’ll have a good date.”

Bobby nodded, his hands slowing down their fidgeting somewhat. “Yeah,” he agreed, “yeah, I think so.” He relaxed, giving Dean a gruff smile. He obviously knew what Dean was trying to do and he was thankful for it, even if he wouldn’t voice it. “What about you?” Bobby switched it around, voice turning more serious. “You dating anyone?”

Surprised at the turn of events, it took Dean a moment to stumble out a reply. Because where the hell had that came from? “Uh, no.” He shook his head, ducking his head down. He wasn’t ready to tell Bobby. Not yet. Sure, Charlie knew, but that was _Charlie_. How the hell was Dean supposed to tell Bobby, who’d known him since he was a baby, who’d been the second guy in Dean’s life to tell him how to treat a woman like a human being, that he was now in fact dating a man? _How?_

Bobby looked at him, still serious, which was starting to freak Dean out. “You sure about that?” he asked, voice soft and so unlike Bobby. Okay, Dean was definitely weirded out now.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, picking at Cas’ sweater.

Bobby was silent for a moment, before relenting. “Okay.” He nodded back, choosing to back down, which was a rarity for him. “But if that changes, you can tell me. I don’t care who it is, so long as they make you happy.” He added cryptically. Dean narrowed his eyes at him. Did Bobby know something?

“Now get to work. I don’t pay you to stand around yapping.” Bobby was back to normal, playfully shoving Dean as he walked by him to get to the office where he wouldn’t get dirty.

Figuring that Bobby was just feeling soppy today and was hoping that Dean would find a girlfriend to settle down with, Dean shook it off and went to work, putting it out of his mind. If Bobby knew something, anything at all, he would have just straight up said it. He never shied away from things, he’d even called up on Dean’s bullshit during his parent’s damn funeral.  Bobby was just in a weird mood because he was about to go on his first date since his wife, that was all.

So Dean tucked it into his brain and got to work. The morning was tireless; they were having a busy week which was good for business, but it meant Dean had to work quickly and efficiently. He didn’t mind though, he preferred it when he had something constant to do. Car after car after car. Dean was half way into finishing up a beat up looking Toyota that had crashed into a lamppost (sometimes Dean wondered why he was in the business he was in, hearing all about different car problems, when he was trying to make it so he _wasn’t_ afraid of cars) when Victor and Jo came strolling in, now apparently too cool to hold hands as they walked together. Jesus, they were definitely made for each other.

“We’re late, sorry.” Victor smiled apologetically, patting his the top of his wet head. It was raining out then, Dean had been too engrossed in working to hear the sharp rainfall on the roof of the garage.

Dean wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, frowning. “I’m having lunch with Cas today, he’s coming by a little later.” At their confused faces, he pointed out. “I did text you.”

“Oh.” Jo said, shrugging. “Oh well.”

“I’m guessing you’ve been too busy sucking each other’s faces to notice that your phone went off.” He rolled his eyes, knowing full well that had been what had happened. Even though Dean had wanted the two to get together, that didn’t mean he didn’t think they were being insufferable at the moment.

Jo ignored him, choosing to comment on Dean’s attire in a way to distract him. “Interesting sweater.”

“And hat.” Victor finished the sentence, because apparently now they were the couple that finished each other’s sentence. Jesus fucking Christ.

“You don’t own any hats.” Jo crossed her arms, as if waiting for Dean to agree.

Promptly, Dean ignored them, hoping his cheeks wouldn’t redden at the third degree being thrown his way. Damn Jo and how she knew every little thing about him. Only she would pick out the oddness of Dean wearing a hat.

“Did you have a one night stand, Dean? Did you borrow the girl’s roommate’s clothes or something?” Jo asked, waggling her eyebrows as she came to the completely wrong conclusion.

“Jesus,” Victor groaned. “A roommate? What, was she in college?”

“I didn’t hook up with a random girl last night!” Dena grimaced at the thought.

“Hey, there’s no shame.” Jo shrugged, smirking. “It’s about time you got some. How long has it been now? It’s been fucking _ages.”_

“Leave the kid alone,” Bobby barked, turning up from fucking nowhere. Dean turned to him, grateful that he was there to help save him from a rapidly disastrous situation. Bobby gave him a nod, squeezing Dean’s shoulder protectively. That shut Jo and Victor up. But then Dean had bigger fish to fry when a wet looking Castiel suddenly appeared in eyesight, making Dean jump. Oh god, this was a fucking nightmare.

“Shit.” Dean was one step from clutching his beating heart. “Hey Cas.” He tried to appear casual, not like he’d just been asked whether he’d had sex with a college girl all of five seconds ago. He didn’t want that to be brought up in front of Cas if he had a choice on the matter.

“Sorry, I’m a little early. It started raining and I couldn’t finish off the garden I was doing. Can we still go for lunch now or do we have to wait?” Castiel asked, only just noticing Jo and Victor’s presence behind Dean. Looking confused, Castiel gave them a quick wave, though he kept most of his attention on Dean.

“We can go now,” Dean said, happy to get the hell out of there before Jo and Victor started asking even more questions. There was only so much fending off Bobby could do for Dean’s sake. Jo was like a dog with a bone when she wanted to be.

“Okay.” Castiel nodded, still glancing over at Jo and Victor every now and then, frowning at Bobby like he was expecting Bobby to have all the answers. He looked even more confused when he realised Dean was about to leave. “Where are the gloves? I told you, it’s cold out. And it’s raining now.” He ruffled his own hair, little beads of rainwater splashing off him.

Dean rolled his eyes good-naturedly, though he rushed over and grabbed the pair of grey gloves. “Here. So stop stressing.” He waved them in front of Cas’ face, snorting at Cas’ proud look.

“ _Shit._ ”

Dean froze. He could practically hear the silent realisations that were coming from Jo, Victor and Bobby. They were standing there right behind him and Cas, watching and _listening_ to the conversation. A conversation that had just basically outed Dean and his relationship with Cas. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together on this one. All over some stupid gloves too.

Dean’s back burned where Jo and Victor were obviously gawping at him, Bobby too.

“Why are they staring at us?” Castiel murmured, leaning into Dean so he could hide himself from Jo and Victor’s gapes.

“Tell you when we get into your car.” Dean swung an arm around Cas’ shoulders, quickly guiding them to the exit. “Let’s go to Benny’s today, else Jo and Victor are just gonna stare at us the whole lunch hour.” He mumbled under his breath, not even glancing at his family as they rushed to the exit. He couldn’t deal with it, not right now.

“Okay,” Castiel agreed without questioning it, hurrying his feet to keep up with Dean.

Dean didn’t take a breath until they were safely tucked into Cas’ car. Castiel made no effort to start the engine though, he merely frowned at Dean, waiting for him to explain. When Dean’s mouth stayed clamped shut, Castiel patiently asked. “What’s wrong?”

“They all know. About us.” Dean was too freaked out to use proper sentences, terrified of what conversation was happening in the garage now that he and Cas had evacuated. He didn’t think any of his family were homophobes, of course they weren’t, else they wouldn’t all love Cas and would have made some kind of comment that showed they swung that way. If any of them showed any kind of inkling of homophobia over the space of Dean knowing them, Dean wouldn’t still consider them to be family. But that didn’t stop Dean throwing what if scenarios in his head.

“You told –“ Castiel looked properly at Dean, coming to the obvious conclusion quickly, “you didn’t tell them. How did they find out?”

“Well, apparently Jo and Victor are the fucking fashion police,” Dean said sarcastically, hands shaking. “They knew that none of this belonged to me,” he pointed at the sweater, “and then you turned up and they put two and two together I guess.” Dean slumped in his chair, shutting his eyes as a wave of nausea hit him.

“Dean, I –“ Castiel started to say. Whether they were going to be words of comfort (most likely) or words to tell Dean to get the fuck over himself (most likely not), Dean’s phone buzzed, interrupting him before he could finish.

Dean swiped it open, feeling his stomach go funny when he was it was a text from Bobby. Castiel saw it too, his hand coming up to massage the nape of Dean’s neck, a simple gesture to let Dean know that he was there with him. It was the little things sometimes with Cas.

Feeling more than slightly sick, Dean opened the text.

_‘Just like I said earlier, I’m happy with you dating whoever the hell makes you happy. Cas obviously does that because I’m not blind at this stuff like you are.’_

“Bobby already knew,” Dean realised. For some reason, the thought made him want to cry. The conversation that had Bobby had tried to initiate when he’s saw Dean wearing Cas’ sweater wasn’t just an offhanded comment, he already _knew._ He already knew about him and Cas was just trying to tell Dean it was okay.

Dean took a sigh of relief, relaxing into Cas’ hold. There was a lump in his throat as he thought more and more about how Bobby knew and was okay with it. He wasn’t going to yell at him or think he was weird or ask loads of questions about Dean’s sexuality. He was quite simply happy that Dean was happy.

Dean jumped when his phone buzzed again, another text from Bobby.

_‘And Jo and Victor are happy for you as well. So stop sitting in the car worrying and go get your damn lunch.’_

Castiel kissed Dean on the cheek, murmuring happily. “I think you should perhaps take Bobby’s advice.”

Dean twisted his head to exhale a kiss onto Cas’ lips. “Y’know what? I think you’re right.”

Castiel smiled, looking as smug as ever. “Haven’t you realised yet? I always am.”

“Shut up, Cas.”


	14. Chapter 14

“It’s just down this road. Follow it and you’ll be fine. We’re not far now,” Dean instructed Cas, just like he’d been doing for the past forty five minutes. Thankfully Cas was a good listener and had been following Dean’s instructions words for word. Dean always hated it when he got in a car with someone and they ignored what he said. They didn’t do it on purpose but that shit got tiring, especially when his knuckles were white from holding onto the seat as his life literally flashed before his eyes.

“Okay.” Castiel nodded, squeezing Dean’s hand in response; holding hands in the car had fast become one of their ‘things’, something to do while they drove around. Dean didn’t know why Cas had started it, most likely to help soothe Dean’s worries about being in a car, but Dean liked it nonetheless. Therapy was helping him kick his nerves from being in a car, but whenever he felt like things were getting away from him again, all he had to do was focus on Cas’ fingers entwined in his.

After one more turn on the long dirt road, the cabin came into view. Dean didn’t bother announcing they were finally there, it was fucking obvious. Just as Dean remembered, the cabin was small, perhaps even smaller than his memories had let him believe. That’s what happened after not going to a place for years and years.

Made mostly out of wood, the two storey cabin was in the middle of the woods, far out from any other house or shops. When they were kids, Dean and Sam had made ghost stories out of that, how if a ghost came out of the woods and attacked them with an axe, no one would be able to hear their screams. One night, they’d stayed up all night, trembling under their beds with flashlights as their dumb stories had become a little too real.

Surrounding the cabin was the woods, trees far older than Dean could imagine. There were all kinds sprouting out of the patchy earth; Dean had no idea how far the woods went on either side of the cabin but he knew it was far. Dean and Sam had once tried to walk through it all, but in the end they’d gotten hungry and ran back to the cabin to find their mother waiting to tell them off. The woods were filled with wild flowers too, different colours and shapes, newly fresh flowers that had only just blossomed in the sunlight. Castiel was definitely going to have a field day with inspecting them all.

What was the biggest attraction though, however, was the lake. There was decking at the front of the cabin which led to a pier over the lake. Dean didn’t know where the water led to, nor did he care. All he’d cared about when he used to visit was that it was a good place to disrobe and swim. In fact, it had been the place he’d actually learnt how to swim. He remembered how John had lifted him out of the water when he’d swam his first few metres, how his father had called him a fish and spun him around in the air until he’d felt dizzy.

“Come on.” Dean sprung out of the car, feeling his heart beat fast at the cabin he hadn’t saw in seven years. It was going to be a long fucking weekend.

Castiel followed him out of the car, slower and perhaps clumsier. “There’s a lake,” Castiel pointed out, standing still as soon as he exited the car, making no effort to move.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “good place for swimming, kinda shitty for fishing. Come on, we’ll bring our bags in in a second. We need to sort some shit out first.” He babbled, because if he spoke ten to the dozen it would prevent him from actually having to _think._

“Okay.” Castiel was still squinting at the water, jaw hardened as he rubbed at his own forearms.

“Come on, babe.” Dean grabbed Cas’ hand to hurry them up. Dean was nervous, scared even, to be back at the cabin after so many fucking years. And when Dean was scared, he liked to busy himself with random shit.

Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he jangled them as he walked to the front of the cabin, not noticing how Cas’ hand clenched around his when they started to walk over the decking. Feeling butterflies in his stomach that made him want to hurl, he fit the right key in the lock and turned it, breathing a sigh of relief when he realised that no one had been there since they had. There were no signs of people coming to the cabin and abusing it. No graffiti or broken bottles littered the entry. Dean supposed that was to be expected; no one would find the cabin unless they were specifically looking for it. It wasn’t exactly a place you could stumble on.

The curtains were shut, giving the living room an even staler feel when they walked in. The furniture was mostly wooden, a lot of it carved by John’s own hands, some with Dean’s help. There had always been something about the cabin that Dean had liked, the cosiness of it all. Dean wasn’t sure whether it was because of the photographs piled on the wall or the comfy pillows and throws, or the simple fact that Dean had always been there with people he loved, but the cabin had always felt like a second home to him.

Something made him falter though, turning his old memories into something tarnished. Everything was lined with dust. The coffee table and other surfaces were coated and the whole room had a musty smell, like if you hit the couch, a waterfall of dust would fill their noses.

“Shit, it’s dusty in here,” Dean grimaced, “guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” He mumbled. They hadn’t been to the place in seven years, of course it was going to be layered with dust. It was like the cabin had tried its hardest to preserve what it had once been, what it had once meant to the Winchester’s, but it had been abandoned and had given up. Yet another cruel reminder of how long Dean had been without his parents.

“First things first,” Dean shook his head to keep his mind from wandering into dangerous territory, “got to get the water and electricity turned on,” he figured with a wavy smile. He dragged them both to the small cupboard in the cabin where all the cables and switches were. After a few curses, he figured it out quickly. His engineering degree helped him in some parts of his life, Dean realised, even if he pretended he didn’t have the dumb diploma.

“Let’s go check whether I’ve done it all right.” Dean squeezed Cas’ hand, hoping that the weekend wasn’t going to start off with them having no utlities. Now that would make an incredibly shitty vacation. Even worse than what it was probably going to be with Dean reminiscing every five seconds.

Dean led a quiet Castiel to the kitchen, another room filled with wood furnishings. There were still some fridge magnets left over from the last time the Winchesters had been at the cabin as a whole family rather than a broken one; photos were stuck on the fridge with a message made out of magnets saying ‘ _HEY FUTURE US’,_ a stupid joke they always did when they were about to leave the cabin until next time.

Dean ignored it. Just like he ignored the other things laid around him that reminded him of the past. He left Cas standing in the doorway whilst he beelined for the sink, twisting the faucet on. “Water’s working, thank god.” Dean grinned, faltering when he saw Castiel wasn’t mirroring his smile. “You okay?”

It took Cas a moment to realise that Dean was even talking to him. “Oh,” he blinked, “yes, I’m fine.”

Dean didn’t believe him. Not for one fucking second. But then there was Jess’ shitty car coming closer (Jess must have talked Sam into using her car because it had a bigger trunk) and then the sounds of a commotion as Sam and Jess got out of the car. Jess wasn’t exactly a quiet person. Promising himself that the talk wasn’t over, Dean moved to the front door, Cas following not far behind. Dean swore he heard Cas sigh in relief that the conversation had been halted.

As the noises had indicated, Sam and Jess were pulling things out of their car; Jess had a hopeful pair of sunglasses on her head, like the mere presence of them would warm the weather up. It wasn’t exactly cold, but it wasn’t bikini weather either. Jess was going to end up disappointed that was for sure.

“Hey.” Dean waved at Jess and Sam, Jess grinning back before she had a giant duffel bag handed to her by Sam. She pulled a face but took it, lugging it to the front door, Sam carrying a giant suitcase behind her.

“Seriously? You don’t need that much shit for one weekend.” Dean crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe as Castiel peeked over his shoulder. Dean didn’t make an effort to move to help them until Jess was at the front door. Rolling his eyes, Dean took the bag and dropped it into the corridor.

“Tell Jess that.” Sam said with an affectionate sigh.

“Hey, I had to bring clothes for all different kinds of weather because it keeps changing every five minutes.” Jess scowled at them. And hey, she kind of had a point on that one. “And half the stuff is food anyway so we don’t starve. So shut up, Dean.”

“Shit, we need to get the food in the fridge.” Dean nudged Cas’ side, only just remembering that they’d brought food too, which was probably melting inside the trunk of Cas’ car as they spoke.

Again, it took Castiel a moment to respond. “Yes. That’s probably a good idea.” He said, stiff in his voice and actions. Jess and Sam didn’t seem to notice anything wrong, but they were busy lugging things into the cabin and play arguing about who’d carried the heavier thing. It wasn’t just that, even without a distraction, they probably wouldn’t have spotted anything off. They still weren’t as used to Cas as Dean was.

“Come on then.” Dean patted Cas’ shoulder, both of them busying themselves with bringing everything from the trunk into the small cabin, from their food to clothes. By the time they’d dropped everything into the small living space area, a rosy cheeked Sam and Jess had done the same.

Now that they had a moment to breathe, Jess was inspecting the place with a small smile, stopping at the fireplace where some photographs were placed. Dean couldn’t even remember what photos they were, it had been so long.

“This place is nice,” Jess grinned in that way of hers that made Dean feel better, even if it was the tiniest of amounts, “just like all the pictures.” She looked over at Sam, who smiled back at her. Sam seemed to be hesitating though, thinking back to the past like Dean obviously was. While Sam had been the one who’d so badly wanted to come back to the place, that didn’t mean he was going to think it was all sunshine and rainbows. Being here _hurt._

“Definitely needs a quick clean though.” Jess frowned, running her finger over the frame of a photograph, her fingertip coming back dirty. “But that’s what we came for really, isn’t it? To spruce it up.”

“Yeah.” Dean scratched his cheek, irritating the stubble. By the looks of Sam’s tight shoulders, he was feeling the same as Dean. Confused. Feeling empty. Wishing everything was different. And missing what they’d once had a long time ago.

Jess could tell there was obvious tension in the air. She was good at figuring things out, like a detective almost, especially when it came to Sam and Dean. “We can do that after we’ve unpacked and eaten though.” She smiled, moving over to Sam so she could rub his shoulders soothingly. She had to step on her tippy toes to do so but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Sam smiled gratefully at her; it was clear he was going to be using her as a crutch for this weekend.

“Let me show you your room,” Dean murmured to Cas, gently guiding him away from Sam and Jess, who had now decided they were going to start the dinner before unpacking. With the two of them handling the food, Dean didn’t even want to think about what atrocity they were going to make. Sam knew some cooking skills from when their mother had tirelessly tried to teach him, but Jess was clueless. Dean just hoped it wasn’t something that required too much skill. Often he wondered how the hell they survived on a day to day basis, but he supposed they were students. Students didn’t eat normally anyway.

Somehow, Cas ended up being the one leading them upstairs and, by what must have been sheer luck, he took them right to the bedroom Dean had been intending on taking them. The room just like the other bedrooms in the cabin, small, but big enough to fit a double bed, a closet, and a desk. It was just as Dean had left it, little memorabilia on the desk, shit that he’d found whilst on their cabin holidays. Some of it was from when he was a kid: a rock that looked like a rather wonky angel, a pressed flower that his mother had made for him the first time they’d came here, a pebble that looked like it had been dipped in watercolours. Dean didn’t doubt that some of his clothes were probably still in the closet too, clothes for hiking and shit that he wouldn’t need at home.

“It’s my room. Well, it was when I got older and Sammy and I didn’t want to share a room anymore,” Dean explained.

Castiel looked around the small bedroom, unsure. “Don’t you want this room for yourself?” He hugged his arms, reminding Dean that there was definitely still something bothering Castiel.

“Nah, I’ll take the other one.” Dean shrugged, dropping his bags onto the floor for now so his arms wouldn’t feel like they were falling off. The other room that he’d volunteered for was less comfortable, two singles pushed together to make a double. If you moved around, you’d feel the crease in the middle; if you moved around a hell of a lot, you could end up pulling the whole thing apart. Luck wasn’t exactly on Dean’s side seeing as he was a restless sleeper.

But Dean thought it would be a good idea to have the other room. He hadn’t slept in that room since he was a small kid, unlike the room Cas would be using. Maybe if Dean stayed in his old, _old_ bedroom, fewer memories would come back and make him feel less weird being there without his parents. Maybe.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Castiel smiled, though it looked all wrong. It wasn’t a genuine smile, not like the ones Dean was used to. “I’ll unpack later.” Castiel offered, dropping his few bags onto the bed, the mattress sinking at the weight.

“Yeah, me too.” Dean sat on the bed to give himself something to do as he tried to figure out how to get Cas to talk to him. “I can’t really be bothered right now.”

Distracted, Castiel nodded. He stayed quiet as he walked to the small window of the room, gazing out of it, hands coming up to clench the windowsill as he looked down at the wooden scenery. From Dean’s angle, Castiel looked stiff, his shoulders tightly wound. If Dean could see the wings hidden beneath the thin sweater, he knew they would be shaped all wrong.

Realising now was the best time to get to the bottom of things, Dean stood, quickly stepping forward until he could wrap his arms around Cas’ middle from behind. At the action, Castiel jumped, but he didn’t push Dean away. Cas was upset about something, but it wasn’t because of Dean.

“Hey babe?” Dean rubbed his thumbs soothingly over Cas’ ribs, resting his chin on Cas’ shoulder when he didn’t turn to look at him.

“Yes?” Castiel asked, a faraway look in his eyes as he looked down at the view. Even the blue in eyes seemed to have faded, murky and grey rather than the usual clear, piercing blue. Something was seriously wrong.

Trying his best not to be pushy, Dean lazily kissed Cas’ jaw. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?” he murmured against Cas’ stubble. It was strange to think that feeling stubble against stubble was once a foreign thing to him, now it felt natural to have coarse hairs rubbing against his own.

For a moment, it looked like Castiel wasn’t going to say anything, that he wasn’t going to explain what was troubling him ever since they’d set foot in the damn cabin. Just as Dean was going to think something was _terribly_ wrong if Cas didn’t want to speak about it at all, Castiel turned in Dean’s arms so he could hug him back.

Surprised, Dean let Cas bury his face in Dean’s chest, holding him tightly. He kept quiet, waiting for Cas to choose to speak. Whatever it was that was upsetting him was enough to make him seek comfort until he could talk about it. Silently, Dean pressed a kiss behind Cas’ ear, right next to where a tuft of hair curled, one of Dean’s favourite parts of Cas. Well, all of him was his favourite part so that made it difficult to choose just one.

Whether it was the action or moment of quiet, Castiel finally felt okay enough to talk. “I…” Castiel leant out and sighed, blue eyes cloudy and wet. “I just didn’t know that there would be a lake here. I’ve never seen one before, not really. Not in real life, outside of movies.” He explained quietly. And Dean still wasn’t getting it, not yet, not until the next pained admission. “Now I know what it must have looked like when Daphne found me.”

And now Dean was thinking about it too. Of Cas, naked and bruised, floating in the shore of a lake, not dissimilar to the one below them. Of Cas possibly putting himself there because, at one point in his life, he hadn’t thought there was anything to live for, that it would be better if he was an empty vessel in the water. A nameless body that no one would look for. Lost to the world.

“ _Cas,_ ” Dean choked. He thought he was going to be sick. Feeling his stomach curdle, Dean pulled Cas back into their tight hug; ironically, he wasn’t sure whether he was doing it for Cas’ sake or his own. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think – I’m sorry Cas,” he tightened his hold of Castiel, burying his face between Cas’ shivering neck and shoulder, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He apologised, feeling like he was the worst boyfriend to ever exist. The worst _friend_ to exist. How could he have not fucking thought about the lake? About what it would mean to Cas?

Castiel sounded confused at the apologies, rubbing the small of Dean’s back. “You don’t need to apologise.”

“Yes I do,” Dean leant out with wide, sorry eyes, “I should have fucking thought about it. If it were the opposite, you would have remembered and you wouldn’t have even brought me here in the first place.” Dean knew that for a fucking fact, so why had he been so slow on the uptake when it came to Cas? How could he have been so stupid? “Do you want to go?” He offered. “If you want to, we can get in the car and leave, I don’t –“

Castiel shut him up with a gentle kiss. “No,” he shook his head, “Dean, it’s fine. _I’m_ fine.”

Biting his bottom lip, Dean looked into Cas’ eyes, trying to figure out whether he should just throw Cas over his shoulder and force him to leave anyway. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about me,” Castiel smiled waveringly, “it was just a surprise. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Dean replied, wondering whether Cas was just saying that for the sake of it, to make Dean feel less bad. He probably didn’t want to ruin the weekend when he knew how much of a big deal it was that Dean had agreed to come. Even if Cas wasn’t lying and he was actually okay, Dean was going to try his damn hardest to ensure that Cas didn’t have to go anywhere near that lake unless he chose to.

“What about you?” Castiel switched the concern, because that was who we was, irritatingly selfless. “Are you okay? I know it must be difficult to be back here.” He rubbed Dean’s back some more, other hand coming up to curl around Dean’s jaw, one of his favourite places to rest his hand.

Dean shrugged, now too worried about Cas and lakes, both the one below them and the one that Cas had been found in, to worry about himself at all. “I’m trying not to think about it too much,” he admitted.

“Okay,” Castiel understood, swiping a soothing thumb over Dean’s bottom lip before leaning forward to kiss him. Just as Dean was about to reciprocate in the hopes that it would distract Cas from the past, Jess was yelling like a foghorn from downstairs.

“Guys, dinner’s done!”

Dean groaned, the moment ruined. “Let’s go see what awful thing they’ve made.”

“Be nice.” Castiel tried not to smile.

“You haven’t tried their food yet,” Dean quipped.

Not long after eating and unpacking, they all retired to their own beds, too tired from work, driving, and unpacking to bother with anything else. Sam and Jess had gone first, hand in hand, drowsily making their way to bed. Next had been Dean and Cas, nothing but a whispered goodbye at Cas’ door before they’d gone their separate ways. All in all, Dean didn’t quite know why they weren’t sharing a room, it was just something they’d silently decided that neither of them had argued against. They’d shared a bed in the past, of course they had, but that had always been impromptu, hurried kisses and roaming hands leading to the bedroom where they’d grinded against each other, falling asleep after they both climaxed. They had never just _slept_ in a bed together. Why that made it different, Dean didn’t know, but somehow it did.

Even though staying in the cabin had already made Dean’s anxiety reach through the roof, for some reason he didn’t have much trouble falling asleep. The uncomfortable bed didn’t seem to be a problem for him as he was slowly lulled to dreaming by the soft noises of crickets.

Apparently, Cas was having more trouble. At God knows what time in the morning, the light filtering through the thin curtains a dull tone, Dean slammed awake when he heard Castiel scream.

In a matter of seconds, Dean was untangling himself from his bed sheets and sprinting to Cas’ room. Wrenching the door open, Dean didn’t know what he was expecting, either Cas having a nightmare or even a psycho from the woods trying to kill his boyfriend. Quite obviously, it was the former rather than the latter. Curled up in the middle of the bed, eyes clamped shut, Castiel was screaming, part nonsense, part decipherable, like Dean’s name. He was gripping the bed sheets, face red and sweaty as he tried to fight whatever he was dreaming of.

“Cas.” Dean made his way to the bed, placing a hand on Cas’ cheek as he tried to use the other to jolt Cas awake. The process worked after mere seconds. Castiel woke up, startled, eyes still wild as he tried to grapple with Dean.

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” Dean stilled him, placing both of his hands on Cas’ shoulders to prevent him from hurting himself. “You’re okay, it’s alright.”

Castiel blinked, finally coming to his senses. His arms dropped as he gazed hazily at Dean, voice very small and out of breath. “D – Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Dean sighed, relieved that Castiel was finally back with him, out of the nightmare plaguing him. At least now Cas couldn’t accidentally hurt himself. “You’re okay sweetheart,” he mumbled against Cas’ sticky forehead, kissing him just above his right eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, though Dean wasn’t sure what he was apologising for. Maybe he still wasn’t fully with it just yet.

“You don’t need to be sorry, it’s okay,” Dean soothed his worries, kissing Cas again before resting his chin on top of Cas’ head so he could wait for Cas to catch his breath. It took a little while, Castiel gripping onto Dean’s t-shirt as he took sharp breaths in and out. The sight and sounds weren’t unlike what Dean had lived through so many nights himself.

Eventually, Castiel seemed to be getting back to normal, though when Dean leant out to see Cas’ face, the guy still looked spooked. “You want to go get some hot cocoa?” Dean offered softly.

“Okay,” Castiel sighed, face and movements tired and clumsy as Dean led them to the kitchen downstairs. By the sounds of things, they hadn’t woken Sam or Jess; Dean knew that Sam was a heavy sleeper, but apparently Jess was too. They’d be screwed if someone tried to rob them one night. That, or they knew Dean was handling it and was leaving the two of them to it.

Two hot chocolates later, Castiel was sitting at the breakfast bar, hunched over the stool as he waited for his steaming drink to cool. Dean was standing next to him, watching Cas worriedly as he leant back on the table, the corner and edges digging into his back.

“So,” Dean blew at his hot chocolate, causing the froth to spread, “do you want to talk about it?”

Dean knew not to push. He’d been in Cas’ position more times than he could count and the one thing he’d always hated was when someone tried to force the nightmare out of him. While it may have made the other person feel like they were helping, they were doing anything but.

“About?” Castiel asked, cradling his mug as he stayed hunched on his seat.

“Your dream. Well,” he corrected himself, “your nightmare.”

Castiel sighed, looking exhausted, bags forming under his eyes. “I wish I could. I get these dreams sometimes, nightmares, and I never remember what they were when I wake up.”

“Oh.” Dean took a sip of his drink, wondering where he was supposed to go from there.

Before Dean could think of some shitty, unhelpful reply, Castiel continued to speak. And he just looked so damn _tired._ “I don’t know whether it’s another way of my mind trying to mock me, to remind me that I don’t remember most of my life. That the dream is nothing at all, just blank, but the feeling of loss when I wake up is what distresses me. Or, it could be that the nightmares are memories of what my life once was and because I don’t remember that part of my life, I don’t remember it when I wake up. I don’t know which alternative I would prefer.”

Dean cleared his throat. “You know, I swear you shouted my name.”

Castiel seemed surprised at that admission. “I did?” He looked at Dean in that way he did that used to make Dean shuffle on the spot uncomfortably, like Castiel’s piercing gaze was seeing straight through him.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. He thought about it for a moment, choosing to take a lighter route in the hopes of making Cas smile. “Maybe you subconsciously knew that I was nearby and I’d come and wake you up.”

“My hero,” Castiel joked dryly.

And then they were silent again, Castiel most likely thinking of a past that he would most likely never remember, Dean thinking of it too. Sometimes he forgot how Cas was missing such a chunk of his life. He would never know who his first proclaimed best friend was, he would never remember what it felt like to be hugged by his mother or father or someone else who loved him, he’d never recall what his first house looked like, or the second, or the third. If Dean thought about it too much, it just made him want to cry.

The silence continued once they’d finished their drinks and started to walk upstairs, hand in hand. There was no effort to let go of each other, not even when they were standing in Cas’ doorway, Cas looking up at him with tired eyes.

“You want to bunk together tonight?” Dean asked, an offer that he hoped would be accepted.

Castiel didn’t let go of Dean’s hand. “Okay.”

“Come on then.” Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’ temple before leading them to Cas’ room. First was Castiel to get into bed, tiredly watching Dean as he climbed under the covers to find Cas. As soon as Dean’s body was touching the mattress, Castiel burrowed into Dean’s arms, tucking his head under Dean’s chin. Following suit, Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel tightly as he buried his face into Cas’ messy hair.

“We should have done this anyway,” Dean mumbled. He’d been an idiot to wait until a nightmare before speaking up about sharing a bed, such an obvious thing to do. While Castiel didn’t reply, most likely already asleep, Dean felt like he was silently agreeing.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Dean murmured around his cigarette, unsure of what else to say. His knees were tucked up to his chin, one arm wrapped around his shins, the other resting on his knee to reach upwards to peel his cigarette from his mouth when he needed to. He hadn’t even bothered to get any socks when he’d stumbled out of the cabin in the morning, when there was still fog clamming up the air and wetting the pier he was sitting on.

“I was wondering where you’d gone.” Castiel replied, arms wrapped around him. It wasn’t particularly cold, but as always, Cas felt any chill that was going. Dean was grateful that Cas didn’t ask what the hell Dean was doing, didn’t look at him like he was a madman for sitting there in his pyjamas, bare foot, in the early morning when he could have been in bed with him.

“Sorry.” Dean said, looking back at the simmering water because it was too blinding to look up at the rapidly brightening sky.

“It’s okay.” Castiel said, instantly shutting Dean’s apologetic behaviour down. One thing Castiel really hated was when Dean apologised for seemingly no reason, something that Dean found himself doing a lot, especially around Cas.

"Thanks for last night," Dean mumbled. Once they'd settled to sleep, together instead of apart, Dean had ruined it yet again by having a nightmare. Thankfully, Castiel had been there to quieten him and help lull him back to dreaming. They'd both had a rough night.

"You don't need to thank me." Castiel stayed standing, still cold.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean flicked the ashes of his cigarette. He didn't wait for a reply. "How did you know to sing that song?" he said quietly, "How'd you know that my mom would sing it to me when I was a kid?"

Castiel frowned, confused. "You didn't tell me?"

"No." Dean shook his head. He was pretty sure he hadn't. That wasn't something he talked about much.

"Oh." Castiel paused, thinking about it. "Sam must have. Why, does it bother you that I know? That I did that?"

"No," Dean sighed, wetting his lips, "it didn't bother me."

"Okay." Castiel replied.

Dean looked up at Cas through a squint, wondering how much courage Cas had had to induce in himself to walk down the pier to greet Dean. Instantly, Dean felt like an asshole. “You okay with sitting here?”

“I don’t mind if you’re here with me,” Castiel replied, shuffling forward a few steps to sit next to Dean. At the new arrival. Dean dropped his knees, dangling his feet over the edge of the pier, feeling small waves splash the bottoms of his feet. Unlike him, Castiel kept his feet up on the pier, legs crossed. Dean outstretched his hand, a silent offering, part for his benefit, part for Cas’. Pretty much instantly, Castiel accepted and entwined their fingers together, leaving their joint hands on the wooden slats.

“I like it here,” Castiel said quietly.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yes. It would be a good place to live.” Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand.

Dean could picture it now, Cas living in the cabin with all that garden to work with. He would have a field day with all of the flowers and bouquets he could make, Anna by his side as she explored what the woods had to offer her. The image came to Dean easily. Adding himself to that picture wasn’t too difficult either.

Castiel sighed, shivering somewhat as he clasped Dean’s hand with both of his. “What’s wrong?” He asked gently, squeezing Dean’s hand as he looked across the vast lake. He didn’t seem to be panicking about the pier; perhaps he’d been right when he’d said he could handle it so long that Dean was sitting right next to him. Just like how Cas was to Dean, maybe Dean was Cas’ peace of mind too, helping in ways he didn’t even realise.

“I don’t know.” Dean exhaled smoke, careful to make sure the wind didn’t send it in Cas’ direction. Dean wasn’t an asshole like that. “I guess that yesterday we were so busy with getting here, then unpacking and cleaning and having dinner. And then it was straight into having a shower and going to bed,” Dean relayed quickly, “there was so much going on that I didn’t actually have time to fucking _think._ But this morning when I woke up, it just hit me where we were and who was –“

“Who was missing,” Castiel finished the sentence, voice quiet.

“Yeah.” Dean tried to swallow down the lump forming in his throat. When that failed, he shoved the cigarette between his lips, inhaling the chemicals. “It’s just, it’s so fucking weird being back here. The last time I came here I was twenty. Sammy was only sixteen.” He huffed; it felt like centuries ago, not years. “And my parents were…” He faltered. “It’s just weird being here without them. Really weird. Being back at this place brings back so many memories, y’know? Some shit that I’d forgotten about. All the times we spent here, all the stupid shit we did. And just sitting here and knowing that they’re gone –“ he flicked his cigarette, ashes tumbling away into the wind, “I don’t know,” he sighed, “it fucking sucks.”

And that right there was an understatement.

Castiel rubbed his thumb in small circular movements against Dean’s hand as he thought for a moment, mouth set into a small frown. “Do you and Sam want to keep the cabin?”

Surprised at the question, Dean blinked, though it took hardly any time at all to know that, deep down, he already knew the answer. “Yeah,” Dean nodded, “I don’t want to sell it. Don’t think Sam does either.” Dean squeezed Cas’ hand. The concept of someone else owning the building, of some other family out there sleeping in their beds and eating in their kitchen made Dean’s heart clench uncomfortably.

“If you want to keep it, you need to let go of the past a little. Make some new memories. If you don’t, this cabin will forever just feel like torment for you, a frozen timestamp of what your life used to be like,” Castiel offered, as wise as ever.

“It’s just like what Missouri said,” Dean took another drag with a sigh, “that coming here would help my progress only if I didn’t shut myself off. Didn’t try and hide away from all the shit. But it’s difficult not to do that when I’ve been doing it for the past six years. It’s only been the last couple of months that I’ve actually learnt how to _not_ switch it all off.”

“I know.” Castiel nodded, understanding because he’d been in Dean’s shoes too, keeping everything pushed down and pretending they weren’t there to get through the day. “But you’re trying. And that’s important.”

Snorting, Dean blew out smoke. “That doesn’t mean shit.”

“Yes it does,” Castiel reiterated, “far more than you seem to think.” He paused, as if hesitating the next sentence which only sent Dean’s guard up. “Sometimes, I don’t think you realise how strong you are.”

“And sometimes I think you overestimate me,” Dean retorted, raising an eyebrow at Cas, “you’re definitely biased.”

Castiel looked smug, rather than upset at the words, which told Dean he’d already thought of a way to dishevel Dean’s words. “Well, that means you’re biased towards me and I’m not as good a person as you tell me.”

“Bullshit,” Dean remarked, angry that Cas could even _consider_ that, “what I say about you is fucking true, alright?”

“So what you say about me is true, but what I say about you isn’t?” Castiel asked, eyebrows raised and looking far more awake than he had the right to at this time of morning. Apparently the combination of nature, both the leaves and Dean’s self-deprecating kind, kept Cas from being a grump. That or he’d glugged down a cup of tea before he’d gone on the hunt to find Dean.

“Fine,” Dean relented with a huff, “you win. Happy now?”

Castiel leant closer to Dean, choosing not to brag about changing Dean’s mind. “Perhaps one day you’ll believe me.” He pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s cheek.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, wondering. “Do you believe all the shit I say about you? Like, really believe it?”

Castiel shrugged. “I believe that _you_ believe it. And when I’m feeling particularly bad about myself, I think about how you see me and it helps. I look at all the other people you surround yourself with, how wonderful they are, and how full of heart. When I think about that, I realise I can’t be too bad a person if you choose to be around me too.”

Dean didn’t quite know what to say to that, or how to react to the fact that Cas felt particularly bad about himself sometimes, whatever that meant. Dean knew it happened, everyone felt shit here and there in their life. But he had a feeling that Cas’ melancholy towards himself was deeper than that, longing for things he would never reach because his brain had stripped them away. If Dean somehow did anything to help Cas get out of those times, however small, Dean figured he couldn’t be that bad a person himself either.

“Okay,” Dean decided, “let’s stop with the depressing shit.”

“Okay.” Castiel gave him a gummy smile, pleased that the heavy conversation was easing away, just like the waves beneath their feet.

“We are supposed to be on vacation,” Dean pointed out.

“That we are.” Castiel smiled, playing along.

“So, I guess we should actually do vacation stuff then.” Dean waggled his eyebrows, suddenly standing up without prompt so he could strip himself of his pyjamas and socks, leaving him with nothing but his boxers.

Scandalised, Castiel looked up at him in mild horror. “Dean,” he squinted, trying very hard to understand the turn of events, “what are you doing?” He peered down at the pile of Dean’s clothes, frowning distastefully as he probably wondered whether his boyfriend had legit lost his mind.

“Like you said, making new memories.” Dean flashed a grin before lifting his arms over his head and swooping into the water.

“Dean!” Castiel shrieked. And then Dean was under the water, too busy being engulfed by the waves to hear anything else Castiel said. He swam for a few seconds before popping back to the surface, shaking his now wet hair like he was a dog with long fur. And then he saw Castiel’s face. Instantly, he realised what a colossal fucking idiot he’d just been. Dean had thrown himself into a lake right in front of the guy who was terrified of fucking lakes. Wow, Dean was doing a grand job of looking after his boyfriend this weekend, wasn’t he?

“Shit, sorry.” Dean swam and then waded over to Cas, placing a reassuring hand on his knee, leaving a wet handprint. “Did I scare you?”

“No.” Castiel shook his head, a barefaced lie that Dean could detect a mile off. He knew Cas too well to believe that bullshit. As an apology, Dean kissed Cas’ now wet knee, wrinkling his nose when he realised how weird that fucking was. But because Cas was weird himself, he didn’t find it odd at all, merely smiling fondly at Dean.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled again, letting both of his hands rest on Cas’ pyjama clad thighs.

“It’s okay. You just – you surprised me, that’s all,” Castiel said, though his hands were still shaking.

“Okay.” Dean nodded, pretending to believe Cas. Maybe if Dean acted normally and showed how nice it was to be in the lake, how there was nothing to be scared off, Cas would slowly learn that himself.

“I haven’t swam in ages. Forgot how good it was.” Dean waded back so he was in the deeper water, pushing his feet off the floor so he could float. He let his arms balance on the top of the water either side of him, winking at Cas cheekily before he did a front turn in the water, much to Cas’ surprise. Lazily, Dean swam a little, feeling a little weird to be doing it when Cas was just sitting there watching him with such a concentrated expression. Like he was waiting for something to go terribly wrong. After a while though, the expression started to change. Dean wasn’t sure, but it sure as hell looked like it might be longing.

Working on a hunch that might get him into trouble, Dean swam back to Cas. “You want to come in?” he offered, wondering whether it might actually do Cas some good if he got his toes wet and found out that nothing bad was going to happen. Maybe he needed to take his own advice and make new memories that might overshadow the old, terrible ones.

“I don’t –“ Cas’ eyes widened, “Dean, I don’t…” He shook his head.

“Hey,” Dean squeezed Cas’ knee, wishing he could be higher up so he could kiss Cas properly, “right up at the pier, your feet touch the bottom. Look.” He stood up, showing how shallow the water was at the pier, barely reaching his chest. “And I’ll be here with you, I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, promise.” After a pause, he reassured Castiel. “You don’t have to though.”

Cas gazed out to the water, a determined expression reaching his face, jaw set. “No, I want to.”

“Okay.” Dean beamed, pleased that Cas was being brave. “Here,” he grabbed both of Cas’ hands, holding on as tightly as his bones would let him, the whites of his knuckles showing through the skin, “I won’t let you go unless you tell me, okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel nodded, squeezing Dean’s hands painfully before letting go so he could disrobe himself of his pyjamas, plain black boxers the only things left on and –

“Your socks, babe.” Dean pointed out, biting back a grin.

“Oh.” Cas flushed, the redness travelling to his chest and shoulders. He peeled off his socks that had rockets on them before settling himself on the edge of the peer. With a shaky breath, he swung his legs over so they dangled in the water, feet skimming the waves as he let Dean grab onto his hands again.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Dean told him, patiently waiting until Cas found the courage to jump, that was if the courage ever came to him. Thinking about doing something and actually doing it were two very different things. As Dean had reassured Cas, the water wasn’t so deep near the pier, barely to their chests, but that didn’t stop poor Cas from squeezing Dean’s hands so hard that Dean thought he might actually break bones.

“Okay,” Castiel murmured to himself before he made the small leap into the water, holding onto Dean’s hands tightly as he got used to the sensation of the gentle waves across his chest.

After a moment, Castiel waded a little closer into the water. He stepped in front of Dean, letting go of his hands in the process. But Dean knew that Cas didn’t want him to go far. Accommodating for it, Dean settled behind Cas, resting his hands on either side of Cas’ waist, a comforting gesture to let Cas know he was right there with him. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Nice view, huh?” Dean hummed, smiling at Cas’ almost awe like expression at the vast lake surrounding them, of the trees far out that were leaning over the water and letting their leaves tumble into the lake. For Dean, it looked like a postcard, something he wanted to take a snap of and cherish.

“It’s just so big,” Castiel gaped, looking more settled in the water as he leant back to Dean’s touch. Refraining from going down the usual childish _‘that’s what she said’_ route, Dean rested his chin on Cas’ shoulder and sighed contently.

“You ever seen the sea?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“No.” Castiel replied, reaching back to grab Dean’s hand and pull it around him so Dean’s arm was snugly wrapped around his middle. Following that, Dean wrapped his other arm around him too, holding him closely to his chest.

“We’ll have to go sometime. Standing on the beach with the sand between your toes while you watch the sun rise or set over the ocean is one of the best sights you can see. Even better if you can swim in the sea.” He kissed Cas on the jaw, quickly having an idea that he wasn’t sure how would be received. “I could teach you, y’know, while we’re here over the weekend.”

“To swim?” Castiel asked, surprised for some reason. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “I bet I’d be a good teacher. Especially cause I could reward you with kisses,” he twisted his head so could peck Cas on the mouth, “and other stuff too.” He winked.

Cas’ nose crinkled as he laughed, telling Dean he’d done a good job of distracting Cas from his lost past. “Okay,” he agreed.

“Okay?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“You can teach me,” Castiel decided, a brave act that Dean wasn’t going to take lightly.

“Awesome.” Dean grinned, rewarding Cas with an enthusiastic kiss. “We’ll start later on today when we’ve had our breakfast and stuff,” he kissed again as a promise, “but we could do one thing before we go inside. You kinda have to trust me though.”

“I trust you,” Castiel replied, so quick, so without thought, that it made Dean’s heart skip a beat. Hearing the trust from Cas made him feel special, like he’d gained something that not many people had. He doubted Cas would have been talked into getting in the lake by anyone else.

“Okay. This is actually a good first lesson if you want to learn how to swim, cause it proves that your body is meant to float in the water, not fall to the bottom.” Dean squeezed Cas’ waist as he tried not to think about the last time Cas had been in a lake. He faltered, clearing his throat as he worried how Cas was going to react to the next instruction. “I want you to lie on your back and float for me.”

Blue eyes clouded at the words. “Dean.”

“You’ve got to trust me. I’m gonna be right here holding you up. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen. But you’ve got to be the one to take your feet off the floor,” Dean soothed. “I promise you, I won’t let you fall. I’m never gonna let you fall, Cas.”

Castiel watched him, silent for a moment as he weighed it up. Dean could almost see his mind whirring behind the eyes, of trying to garner enough confidence in himself to lift his feet and fall backwards. And then, out of the fucking blue, Castiel did it. With a determined jaw, he tilted backwards, lifting his feet at the same time that Dean placed his hands at the small of Cas’ back to make sure he stayed afloat.

After a short moment of pure unadulterated terror in Cas’ eyes, they were then filled with surprise as he realised he was floating.

“There. See,” Dean grinned proudly, “not so difficult.”

Castiel made a noise to agree, outstretching his arms and legs as he floated with Dean’s help; Dean knew that if he let go, Cas would be able to float on his own, but Dean didn’t want to do it. It would freak Cas out and then Dean would have gone back on his promise. He still remembered when he was a kid learning how to ride a bike without training wheels; his father had promised him that he wouldn’t let go. Dean had been soaring, using his legs as fast as he could until he’d turned back to realise his dad had let go of the back. Dean had dropped to the ground and cried for twenty minutes. So yeah, for Cas’ first swimming experience, it was better for it to be a group effort.

“Good, huh?” Dean asked softly. Castiel didn’t reply, too busy staring up at the slightly cloudy sky, but Dean could tell that he agreed. There was nothing quite like lying in the water, being held up by physics and just letting go of any other shit. Smiling, Dean leant down, momentarily casting a shadow on Cas’ glowing features as he pressed a kiss to Cas’ lips. Castiel responded with some rather good tongue action. With Dean’s mouth on his, Castiel forgot about floating; he wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and pulled himself back up to standing so he could kiss Dean with more momentum.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel murmured across Dean’s lips.

“You’re welcome.” Dean grinned. “I’ll properly teach you how to swim later, show you all the fun stuff people do.”

Castiel smiled in a way that had Dean a little concerned. There was definitely something being planned in that head of his. “I’ve always saw in the movies that there’s something people always do when they’re in the lake or at a pool party. Or at the beach.”

“You really shouldn’t believe everything that happens in movies, Cas. Most of it isn’t real.”

“Okay.” Castiel took a step back from Dean, noticeably closer to the pier so he wasn’t in the deeper water. Dean frowned, wondering where he was going with this. And then Cas did something that completely surprised him. The fucker splashed him.

“Hey!” Dean screeched.

And then it was an all-out _war_. Well, it was from Cas’ side, Dean had to make sure he was more careful than how he normally was in a water fight. He was used to dunking people under and going under the water to grab at their ankles and pull at them. Neither of those things would be a terribly good idea with Cas, who was still scared. So instead, Dean let Cas do whatever the hell he wanted to Dean. Meanwhile, Dean splashed him back a little, feigning tiredness so Castiel could get one up on him.

When Castiel had a slippery grip of both of Dean’s wrists, bodies pressed tightly together as they panted, Dean decided that they should probably call it a day and head back inside. Especially because his stomach was rumbling; he’d been up for a good hour now and he still hadn’t even had a cup of coffee, let alone food. In truth, he was wondering how the hell Cas was dealing without his tea either.

“Come on,” Dean grinned, slicking the wet hair sticking to Cas forehead back, “let’s go in, get dried off, and have some food.” He nudged their hips together. “And you can have some tea.”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed fondly, kissing Dean on the cheek before he clambered back onto the pier, giving Dean a good eyeful. While Cas’ boxers were black and grey striped, not light enough to be showing anything indecent, they were still stuck to Cas’ body in ways that made Dean want to reach forward and squeeze. But the sight soon disappeared when Castiel threw his pyjama pants back on. Dean followed with a sigh, figuring if Sam and Jess were awake at this time in the morning, they wouldn’t want to see outlines of their junk.

When they walked through the door to find Sam and Jess in the kitchen, tiredly drinking coffee like it was their life support as they sorted breakfast, Dean was surprised. “Hey, you’re both up.”

“Yeah. We got hungry. And we just heard you two yelling. Sam was worried that a giant fish was attacking you or something. Loch Ness Monster’s cousin or something,” Jess teased her boyfriend.

“No I wasn’t,” Sam scowled, telling Dean that Jess was totally telling the truth.

“Yeah, you were,” Jess teased some more, sipping her coffee with a pleased expression.

“We, er, kinda got into a water fight,” Dean said awkwardly, wincing at the wet feeling he had all over. Having boxers stick to places they shouldn’t be sticking to was never a pleasant feeling.

“Hello.” Castiel peeked around Dean, smiling around the water droplets dribbling down from his hair and face. As soon as Cas came into view, Dean saw Jess and Sam’s faces change. At first, Dean didn’t know what the commotion was about. Sure, Cas was wet and his pyjama pants were sticking to him, but so were Dean’s. What was the big fucking deal? But then he watched Sam and Jess’ gaze and realised just a tad too late as to what they were staring at.

“Oh wow, Cas.” Jess’ eyes widened. “Your tattoos.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, going from smiling to frowning in barely a second. Dean turned to watch as Cas’ shoulders curled inwards, hands coming up to wrap around his middle as if that wold hide the tattoos from sight. Shit, they’d left their t-shirts at the pier. Dean was a fucking _idiot._

“Come on, Cas,” Dean wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulders, guiding them to the door, “we both should probably go take a shower. We don’t want to catch some sort of disease.” He kept his tone light, hoping that they wouldn’t create a scene. By the looks on Sam and Jess’ faces, they’d realised their mistake, even if they didn’t know _why_ it was a mistake.

Carefully, Dean ensured that neither Sam nor Jess would get a glimpse of Cas’ wings. Though Dean wasn’t certain – Castiel had never told him outright after all – Dean had a feeling that the wings were Cas’ most private tattoo, the most personal alongside his tattooed name.

“I forgot that I didn’t –“ Castiel started to say when they were walking up the stairs step by step, Dean still holding him protectively to his side.

“I know, I know,” Dean kissed his wet temple, “it’s okay.”

Even as they eventually made their way to one of the two bathrooms, Castiel was still on edge, fingers fidgeting. Dean pulled the toilet seat down and gently pushed Cas to sit down so he could kneel in front of him. Partly trying to distract, partly because he just wanted to, Dean pressed a kiss to the three birds on Cas’ collarbone and chest, getting a small laugh from the one where Cas was particularly ticklish.

“Thanks,” Dean murmured, slotting their hands together.

“For what?” Castiel asked, looking down with a puzzled expression.

“For coming here with me. I don’t think you realise how much you’re helping me just by being here,” Dean explained, squeezing Cas’ hands. “When I woke up this morning, I felt like shit and I just wanted to leave and go back home and call this whole trip a disaster. But somehow in the space of half an hour, you had me laughing and acting like an idiot in a lake.” He huffed.

Castiel blinked down at him, silently surprised at the admission.

“And thanks for being so patient with me.” He ran his hand through Cas’ wet hair, pushing the wet curls stuck to Cas’ forehead back away from his face. “I know I’m not exactly the easiest of boyfriends, with us having to go at a snail’s pace at fucking everything.”

“Dean, I don’t mind that,” Castiel shook his head truthfully, “you’re my first boyfriend, I think it’s good we’ve taken it slow.”

“I know,” Dean nodded, reaching up to kiss Cas lightly, “but still, thanks for being you.”

Castiel hummed appreciatively, cupping Dean’s jaw as they kissed slowly, tongues sliding together with ease. If there was one thing that Dean and Cas were fucking awesome at, it was kissing.

Rubbing their noses together, Castiel asked, “Am I allowed to thank you now?”

“For what?” Dean asked, mirroring Cas’ earlier reply.

Castiel peppered Dean’s nose with kissing, making Dean huff. The guy was definitely kissing his freckles, the sentimental idiot. “For everything.” Cas sighed happily, fingers curling around Dean’s jaw.

“Cas,” Dean groaned, uncomfortable with that. While Dean wanted nothing more than to throw compliment after compliment Cas’ way, he still found it difficult to handle it the opposite way.

“No. Let me say it.” Cas quietened him with a kiss. “Even when I was nothing but a stranger to you, you were kind. When you realised I was new in town, you introduced me to all of your friends and family without a thought. And you saved my cat.” He huffed with a smile. “And when we became this, when we got together, you’ve been nothing but the best. I know that I don’t have anyone to compare to you, but I know that even if I’d have hundreds of boyfriends before you, none of them would have compared to you. Not at all.”

“Baby.” Dean bit the inside of his cheek, not knowing how to reply to _that_ other than to kiss the guy bruisingly on the mouth. Castiel reciprocated enthusiastically, moaning against Dean’s mouth as Dean pulled them closer together.

Castiel paused the kiss, mumbling against Dean’s lips. “I love you.”

“ _Cas.”_ Dean gasped, unprepared for such a declaration.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Castiel told him, smoothing Dean’s cheeks with his thumb, “I don’t need you to. I just wanted to say it myself, so you knew.”

Still unsure of what to say, Dean kissed Cas on the forehead before sitting up more so on his knees so he could bundle Cas in his arms. The three words were on his tongue, begging to be let out. But he just couldn’t do it. He didn’t fucking know why. And yet he knew exactly why at the same time. When Dean had been a kid, he’d had no trouble saying those three words, even when he was a teenager he’d never been afraid to tell his friends that he loved his mom. He’d uncared of whether it would cause him to be made fun of.

But then the crash happened. That stupid _damn_ car crash that had caused him to hide in his shell. That _fucking_ car crash that had caused so many problems, not just his parents dying. And after _that_ crash, he’d closed up that side of him, of being so willing to declare his love, terrified that if he told someone he loved them, it would be the kiss of death.

“Hey,” Dean leant out, voice quiet as he put their foreheads together, Cas’ eyes burning brightly, “how about we take a shower?” He licked his lips. “Together?”

Cas’ eyes widened. He was surprised at that idea. Nervous, Castiel nodded. Dean got it. Even though they’d orgasmed together a hell of a lot of times now, they’d still never seen each other naked. He had no fucking idea why, it just had never happened. It was that one final step they hadn’t passed yet, of their bodies pressing together without anything between. But Dean wanted to pass it now. He wanted Cas, the guy who _loved_ him, to have no restrictions.

Dean stood up, giving Cas some space. Instead of starting to undress himself, Dean sat on the edge of the bathtub unabashedly, watching Cas stand up. With his gaze firmly on Dean, Castiel peeled off his wet pyjama pants. After a small moment of hesitation, his boxers were pulled off.

It wasn’t scary or terrifying. And it certainly wasn’t traumatising. Nothing as to how Dean would have thought it would be only a few weeks ago. Having Cas’ naked body laid out in front of him was anything _but_ terrifying. Already, Dean had seen Cas’ strong legs and thighs, his toned stomach and freckled back. The tattoos running across his torso like he was an easel. But now Dean could see the light silvery stretch marks on Cas’ hip bones that were probably there from growing fast when he was a kid, cutting into the constellation tattoo he had over one hip. Dean could see the curve of Cas’ ass, the defined freckle on his lower back. And, of course, Dean could see Cas’ cock, how it curved slightly to the left. How there were coarse hairs settled at the back. How, while his was just a little longer than Dean’s, it was somewhat thinner.

“C’mere,” Dean mumbled, outstretching his hands. Castiel followed the gesture, walking up to Dean so he could slot between Dean’s thighs. As a reassuring gesture for the both of them, Cas placed a hand on the nape of Dean’s neck as Dean leant forward and kissed Cas’ hipbone, the one that had the tattoo of planets and constellations.

“I wanna try something,” Dean said against the stars, hands gripping both of Cas’ hipbones as he burrowed his nose against the damp skin. Slowly, Dean moved closer and closer to the left. Taking a shaky breath, Dean nuzzled the small curly hairs at the base of Cas’ dick, which was slowly starting to curve upwards in anticipation.

“Dean,” Castiel murmured, like his name was a prayer. He had a habit of doing that.

“Shh.” Dean said, smoothing one of his hands over Cas’ balls, earning a groan from Castiel, deep from his gut. Dean let his hands skim over Cas’ skin, curling his hands upwards until his hand was wrapped around the base of Cas’ cock. He gave himself a moment, breathing against the rapidly thickening cock as he garnered the courage to do what he wanted. He told himself that he should just do what he fucking liked, hoping that he’d do it right. There were no right or wrong answers.

Dean wrapped his lips around the tip of Cas’ cock, letting his tongue slide over the slit of the head. Castiel reacted with a moan, gripping Dean’s hair, tugging at the strands. Dean tipped his head up to look at Cas’ face; the flush on Cas’ cheeks, his pink mouth parted in an ‘o’ as he looked down. The sight just spurned Dean on more.

Eagerly, Dean forced more of Cas’ cock inside of his mouth, unstopping until it hit the back of his throat. Spluttering, Dean drew back, feeling like he might choke. For a brief moment, he had a vision of his face being planted on the news with the headline ‘ _Man, twenty eight, dies by choking on penis’._

“Okay. Apparently this is harder than it looks,” Dean grumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up. Castiel stroked Dean’s hair fondly, patiently waiting.

On his second attempt, Dean took it slower. Cas’ cock wasn’t fucking going anywhere, he could take his time and learn along the way. He didn’t have to be some fucking expert, deep throating wasn’t exactly necessary right now. Hand still gripping the base, twisting his hand slightly, Dean took the tip back into his mouth. He lapped at the slit eagerly, getting used to it before sliding more into his mouth. He ran his tongue flat on the underside of Cas’ cock as he moved his head up and down, twisting his head as he sucked. Closing his eyes, Dean knew that if he saw Cas’ expression as well as heard the little breathy gasps and moans, he’d only end up getting too excited and choke again.

He took Cas’ cock back into his mouth as he slid down to the base, the heaviness in his mouth a new sensation. But it wasn’t a bad one. The precome on his tongue was bitter, a strange taste, but Dean liked it because he knew it meant Cas fucking enjoying it. Castiel was gripping his hair like it was the only thing keeping him upright, his other hand taking one of Dean’s, squeezing it tightly as he moaned Dean’s name and stuttered his hips forward to Dean’s lips.

Dean could feel Cas’ cock thickening in his mouth as he sucked and licked to his heart’s content. It was weird, he’d always thought giving someone a blow job would be a sucky thing ( _heh),_ he’d always praised a girl who’d chosen to do it for him, unlike the assholes out there who took it for granted. But having his lips around Cas’ cock, tasting and breathing him in as Cas groaned and moaned his name – fuck, Dean could easily have sat there all day.

Alas, it couldn’t last forever, Cas’ moans and movement of his hips becoming more and more incoherent, his grip on Dean’s hair becoming tighter and tighter. “Dean, I think – I think I’m going to – _Dean.”_

Dean stayed exactly where he was, feeling the hot burst of liquid hit the back of his throat. The taste wasn’t awful and it wasn’t unexpected due to Cas’ warning, but it was still difficult to swallow down at first, Dean unused to the feeling. But when his throat and tongue got used to it, he sucked Cas’ cock dry, swallowing down the liquid as he dug his fingernails into Cas’ hips.

With a somewhat saddened sigh, Dean took Cas’ cock out of his mouth, letting it bob free as he stood up with shaky legs so he could kiss Cas eagerly on the mouth. Just as responsive, Castiel held onto Dean as if he were the only reason he hadn’t turned into a puddle on the floor.

Castiel pulled at the drawstring of Dean’s pyjama pants, a silent commandment for Dean to strip.

“Start the shower.” Dean nudged their hips together, voice hoarse and jaw aching. He guessed that was what happened when you’d had someone’s cock in your mouth. Not that he was complaining.

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, kissing Dean deeply once more. And then he climbed into the bathtub, having to grip onto the side so he didn’t fall over. Seconds later, the shower was on, spraying water on Cas’ body.

As quick as humanly possible, Dean pulled off his remaining clothes, nearly falling over in the process. Thankfully, Castiel was behind the shower curtain so he couldn’t laugh at Dean for it. So that was good. Carefully, so he didn’t actually fall this time, Dean climbed into the shower. Castiel turned to greet him. His eyes roamed over Dean’s body, fingertips coming up to reverently glide over the freckles on Dean’s shoulders, freckles that were becoming more prominent because of the recent sun.

“You’re so beautiful,” Castiel murmured, barely audible under the sound of the spray of water. He was still out of breath, hands still shaking, legs still weak.

Dean didn’t know how to reply to that one so he just kissed Cas instead, lips still slick with spit and come. Cas’ kisses where lazy; as soon as he’d came, Cas was always tired, just wanting to curl up and cuddle. But for now he was powering through because of Dean’s pretty strong boner, cock curved upwards on the sheer taste of Cas alone.

Cas’ hands hovered over Dean’s cock, fingers shaking slightly. Concerned, Dean didn’t know whether it was because he’d just gone through an orgasm himself, or because he didn’t want to go through what he was about to do.

“Hey,” Dean kissed Cas’ jaw, nipping at the skin, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“No,” Cas was defiant, “I want to. I just – I want it to be good. For you.”

Dean’s head and heart hurt that Cas was so worried about being good for him; he had a feeling Cas could give him the worst hand job in the entire existence and he’d still have Dean moaning and coming onto their stomachs. Cas had nothing to fucking worry about when it came to making it good for Dean.

“Just do what you do to yourself but to me instead. I’ll help you through it.” He nipped at Cas’ jaw again, settling his hands around Cas’ waist to hold him close, forgetting about the spray of water hitting them. “Besides, that was my first ever time giving head, I can’t really complain about what you do for me is good or not when I just gave you a shitty blow job –“

“Dean,” Castiel silenced him, “what you did was perfect.”

Dean tried not to glow too much at the compliment. “I’ll let you know what feels good, okay?”

Castiel nodded, nuzzling Dean’s jaw for comfort. He took another shaky breath before wrapping a hand around Dean’s hip, fingernails digging into the skin.

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean murmured as Castiel blocked the spray of water. He wiped his hand dry from the towel nearest to them. With a bite of his bottom lip, he squirted some of Jess’ conditioner onto his hand to make his hands slippery.

Castiel wrapped his hand around Dean’s rapidly hardening cock. At first, his grip was too light, skin barely touching skin as he raised his fist up and down. His mouth was still pressed against Dean’s jaw, breathing heavily against the skin.

“Tighter,” Dean told him, breathless already because he knew what was to come. Having the taste of Cas’ come still on his tongue didn’t worsen matters either. At the command, Castiel tightened his grip, squeezing the base of Dean’s cock. Not being able to help it, Dean whined, turning his head to swap their positions and have his nose pressing against Cas’ jaw instead, heart beat rising.

Castiel twisted his fist at the base of Dean’s cock, pulling his hand up to swipe the head of it with his thumb, smearing precome, before pushing his hand back down the base again.

“Fuck,” Dean nuzzled Cas’ neck, hiding his face, “like that,” he groaned, legs turning to jello.

Castiel repeated the motion, slower this time, as if knowing that that would turn Dean on all the more. “You feel –“ Castiel rumbled, fastening the speed and then slowing it down at random times, “you feel so good.”

Dean groaned at the words. He’d heard them before, of course he had. They were go to words for people you were having sex with. But he knew Cas wasn’t saying it for the sake of saying it, to try and sound sexy or some shit like that. He was saying it because he thought it was true. He thought holding Dean’s curved cock in his hand felt _good._

“Keep – fuck,” Dean moaned, close to biting Cas’ shoulder so he didn’t produce too loud a noise that would be heard over the spraying shower. “Keep going.”

Leaving open mouthed kisses on Dean’s shoulders, where the freckles were scattered closer together, Castiel sped up the process, twisting at the base and paying particular attention to the head of Dean’s cock, using the precome to make the movement slicker and slicker. With his other hand, Cas paid attention to Dean’s balls, smoothing his hands over them and playing with them gently.

All of that rolled into one made everything ten billion times fucking better in Dean’s book. His breathing broke harshly, fingernails digging into Cas’ sides as he gasped. Cas’ hands were unrelenting, one continuing to massage Dean’s balls lightly, the other stroking Dean closer and closer to orgasm.

“Is that – Is that good?” Castiel asked, out of breath and it wasn’t even him who had a hand wrapped around his cock.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Dean groaned. Wasn’t it fucking obvious?

Not long later, Dean was crashing through an orgasm, coming into Cas’ hands and their stomachs. “Fuck.” Dean chuckled throatily. “You are way too good at that,” he said lazily from Cas’ shoulder where he’d all but collapsed onto, not quite ready to move from his hiding spot just yet. If he even tried to move away from Cas, who was pretty much holding him up, he’d end up folding onto the floor. And the floor was a slippery shower so that wouldn’t exactly be a good fucking idea.

“Thank you,” Castiel replied, the proudness in his voice deafening, making Dean snort. It made Dean get so close to those fucking three words that Cas had spoken minutes beforehand. Because he did, he returned those feelings, of course he fucking did. Cas was the ultimate dork and for fucks sake, Dean _loved_ him for it. It hurt to even think about. In the best fucking way possible.

“Come on,” Dean finally found the energy to lean back so he could kiss Cas on the mouth, “let’s clean up so we can go get some food. Don’t want to stay in the shower for too long, don’t want to look like prunes”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, massaging Dean’s hair already.

They kept the actual shower quick, though it was less of a shower and more of a make out and wandering hands session as they did their best to lather up with shampoo and shower gel in between. Honestly, Dean kind of figured that they were probably dirtier coming out of the shower than they were getting in it. Quite frankly, Dean didn’t give a flying fuck.

They left each other’s sides to go get dressed because both of their clothes were in two different bedrooms. Thus they both had to play the terrifying game of running to their rooms with skimpy towels, hoping that Jess and Sam wouldn’t pop up and seem them both half naked. Or see them coming out of the same bathroom together looking far too pleased with themselves.

Dean won the race of getting downstairs first. He’d opted for a plain t-shirt and jeans, the fabric sticking to certain sections of his torso where he hadn’t dried off properly.

“You took your time.” Jess pointed her teaspoon accusingly at Dean as soon as he entered the room.

“I had to make sure I got all the grime out of my hair,” Dean lied, running a hand through his dump hair as if to prove his point.

Jess snorted and Sam bit his bottom lip as if he was trying not to laugh. “And where’s Cas?” He asked.

“Taking a shower in the other bathroom, I guess?” Dean shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, which was difficult when he’d just had the guy’s dick in his mouth. Pretty fucking difficult indeed.

“Right.” Sam grinned, dimples showing as he shared a knowing look with Jess, which just set Dean on edge. “You guys seemed happy this morning.” He told Dean, still smiling from ear to ear.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, “I was helping him learn how to swim. The dude’s got to learn at some point.” His smile faltered when he even considered the idea of Cas falling into the water and not knowing how to get himself back out. Yeah, the guy needed to learn how to swim and _fast._

“So,” Sam continued to spread the butter on his toast, voice completely casual, “you two are getting kind of serious, huh.” He didn’t even make it a fucking question, more of a statement than anything.

Dean’s throat dried up. “What?”

“You two,” Sam nodded at Dean, Jess watching the conversation with a smile, “you two seem to be getting serious. Haven’t seen you with anyone like this in a long ass time.”

“I –“ Dean coughed, scratching the back of his neck as he tried not to choke, “yeah,” he said slowly, careful with his words, “I guess we kind of are.”

“Good,” Sam grinned, “you guys suit each other. You both make each other happy, that’s obvious.”

“Yep,” Jess agreed, nodding as she matched Sam’s grin.

“I –“ Dean started to say, having no idea how to even fucking finish the sentence. One second he’d been having the best hand job in existence, happy as a kid at Christmas, the next his brother was announcing that he already totally knew about him and Cas. Not only that, but he knew it was _serious._ Dean’s heart was too fucking weak to handle such a rapid fucking change.

“What do we have for breakfast?” Castiel suddenly appeared, now dressed and covered up. As always, he hadn’t dried his hair properly, little droplets beading down his face. God, Dean really fucking loved him.

“Hey Cas.” Dean tried not to jump at his appearance.

Castiel squinted at Dean, clearly knowing something was up. He wasn’t a dumbass and he knew how Dean acted when he was trying to cover up shit. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Dean replied quickly before Sam or Jess could start spouting shit. Castiel stayed squinting at him, privately calling bullshit, but he didn’t openly push in front of Sam and Jess.

“Okay,” Castiel said slowly. “I’m going to call Charlie before I have breakfast, see whether Aniel is okay.” He explained. Dean wasn’t sure whether Cas could tell that there were unsaid words between Sam and Dean or whether Anna’s wellbeing couldn’t just wait until after food – wait, who was Dean fucking kidding, it was definitely the latter. He didn’t care about anything else besides his cat right now.

“Okay.” Dean laughed, because the adoration Cas had for his cat would always be one of his favourite things about his boyfriend. Who loved him. _Fuck._

Jess watched Castiel go, looking between Sam and Dean before she announced. “And I’m gonna go get out of these pyjamas.” She mumbled something in Sam’s ear as she walked by, brazenly slapping his ass when she rushed off upstairs.

Dean watched her and Cas go. He opened his mouth and shut it, not knowing where to go from there. Should he bring up him and Cas? Or should he pointedly just ignore it and pretend Sam hadn’t mentioned it all? He knew what he would have done before he’d started therapy that was for sure.

Apparently Sam decided for the both of them, quickly switching the topic. “How are you handling it?” Sam asked around his coffee. “Being here, I mean.”

How _was_ Dean handling it?

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Dean shrugged, tapping his fingers against the counter to give him something to do. “I’m glad we came, but it’s just a lot.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “definitely a lot to take in. It's weird being here. Brings a lot of stuff back. And that's good, I want to remember all the happy times we had here. But it's still difficult.” He smiled through the pain, something that both Sam and Dean were experts on. Even though Sam was very much the cheery happy go lucky guy out of the two of them, wishing to be optimistic and see the good in shit, that didn’t mean he had his bad habits of pushing shit further and further down to hide the pain.

“I just miss them,” Dean mumbled, throat tight, “every day.”

“Me too,” Sam replied, a moment of understanding washing over them. While they disagreed with a hell of a lot sometimes and would get so pissed at each other more often than not, they would always have the loss of their parents to join them together, to make them understand some of the actions of the other. Because they both had loved their parents. They both had known what it was like to have such good fuckin parents who would do anything for them. And they also both knew what it was like to have them taken so cruelly away, in the worst of circumstances. Nothing would ever break that bond between Sam and Dean, nothing at all. And no one else would ever understand their loss besides the other.

“Hey Dean?” Sam asked softly as he turned to refill the coffee machine.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, furiously rubbing at his eyes whilst Sam wasn’t looking.

“Earlier, when I asked whether you and Cas were serious,” Sam started, Dean freezing on the spot, “you seemed surprised.” Sam looked back over at Dean and raised an eyebrow. “Did you think I didn't know?”

Though his brain was screaming all the curse words that Dean knew, he somehow managed to appear casual when he shrugged. “I just didn't realise they'd told you, that’s all.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, confused now. “Who?”

“Bobby, Jo and Victor,” Dean replied, narrowing his eyes. Who else would Dean have been talking about? They were the only fuckers who knew besides Charlie and Dorothy and Dean knew that Charlie hadn’t been shouting it out to anyone who would listen.

Sam’s eyebrows raised, surprised, and Dean swore he could detect a little sadness in Sam’s eyes. “You told them?”

“Not really.” Dean focused on flicking some escaped sugar on the kitchen counter. “I went to work wearing some of Cas' clothes, they kinda figured it out.” He mumbled, still embarrassed about it. Now every time he saw Jo, she ribbed him for being head over heels for a guy who wore animal sweaters. And then she proceeded to rib Cas for falling for a guy who would kill someone for a good cheeseburger. In short, Jo was an annoying fucking twit who Dean couldn’t help but love, even with her annoying smug face.

“Right.” Sam nodded, the sadness fading away as he smiled, working it all out.

“So, they didn't tell you?” Dean asked.

“Dean,” Sam grinned, shaking his head, “I'm your brother, I know you. I didn't need anyone to tell me. I knew already. It was blindingly obvious.” He pointed out with a snort.

“No, it wasn’t.” Dean crossed his arms petulantly; for once, he wanted to be able to tell someone about him and Cas without them replying that they already knew. He and Cas hadn’t been that obvious, had they? All this time he’d worried about people’s reactions of shock and now, he just wanted someone to be fucking _surprised._ Was that too much to fucking ask?

“It was, Dean,” Sam retorted with a roll of his eyes. “To be honest, I’ve got a feeling that we figured it out before you guys did,” he hesitated, mouth down turning as well as his shoulders, “I just didn’t know why you wasn’t telling me.”

Dean flicked the rest of the sugar away, it blowing off the edge of the counter onto the floor. He could hear the hurt in Sam’s words. Dean flipped the situation around and wondered how he’d have reacted if he’d had to figure out that Sam was dating a guy with his own detection skills rather than actually being outright told about it. Dean never dealt with being kept in the dark well, especially when it came to his brother, so he couldn’t help but feel like a total ass that he’d done the exact same fucking thing to Sam. Sure, it was about dating a guy rather than taking fucking drugs, but still, he should have just told his brother. It was as simple as that.

“You don’t mind?” he asked quietly. “That I’m dating Cas?”

“Mind?” Sam twirled around to stare at him; any other moment, Dean would have laughed at the drama of it. “Why would I fucking _mind_?”

“Oh come on, Sam,” Dean rolled his eyes, hoping that it would make it so Sam wouldn’t see that his hands were shaking, “he’s not exactly the type of person who I normally date.”

Sam continued to frown, trying to understand. It took him far too fucking long to realise what Dean was not so subtly trying to get at. “You mean because he’s a guy?” Sam pulled a confused expression, the corners of his mouth down pulling. “What sort of asshole do you think I am? You seriously think I would be bothered that you’re dating a guy who you clearly think the world of?”

“I never said the world,” Dean mumbled with rapidly reddening cheeks.

“You didn’t have to. Like I said, it’s blindingly obvious.” Sam grinned, putting an end to any of Dean’s worries. There was no way that Sam would be grinning and teasing him if he didn’t approve of Cas, if he didn’t approve of Dean dating a man. Frankly, Dean felt dumb for thinking that Sam would be any different. The guy was the one of the most open minded people Dean knew. Hell, if he saw someone walking down the street half naked with only a tutu on, Sam would probably shrug and say that he respected the weirdo’s life choices. Sam didn’t give a fuck about shit like that so why did Dean think he’d be so much of a special snowflake to be the one person who Sam wouldn’t be understanding about?

“So you don't think I’m relying too much on him?" Dean relayed the words that Sam had used to attack him not so long ago, which was probably the wrong thing to do, but it was tumbling out of his mouth before he could help it.

Sam winced. Their argument was still a sore spot between the two of them. “I was wrong to say that, okay? Yeah, you rely on him and you trusted him a lot quicker than you have anyone else, but that's not necessarily a bad thing, y'know?” He moved around to meet Dean, squeezing his shoulder. “I think you two are good for each other. I mean, you’re different to how you were before you met him. You’re going to therapy and he’s helping you with that. You come out to places more. You’re smiling more,” he smiled gently, “and Cas is different too. Less in his shell. He opens up more now. And he smiles more as well.”

Dean found himself grinning at the words. He thought he and Cas were good for each other, of course he fucking did, but hearing it from someone else made Dean’s heart swell. He wished he could get it in fucking writing so he could read it whenever he felt like shit.

“I think you’re good together, okay?” Sam finished.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, “thanks.”

And then Jess and Cas’ voices were coming closer which ended their heart to heart. They were talking about animals (of course) as they joined Sam and Dean in the kitchen. When they made it to the doorway, they paused, noting the atmosphere of the room.

“Are we interrupting something?” Castiel asked, eyes darting from Sam to Dean.

Dean coughed awkwardly. “No.” He shook his head, smiling as he outstretched his hand slightly. Castiel’s eyes widened when he saw the gesture, but as soon as the surprise had dwindled, he was making his way across the small kitchen to take up the offer and entwine his and Dean’s fingers together. Castiel sent Dean a silent question to ask what the hell had been talked about in Sam and Dean’s talk, but Dean just squeezed his hand in response, a promise that he’d tell him all about it later.

“Hey Cas?” Sam interrupted the moment.

“Yes?” Castiel asked, not taking his eyes from Dean’s.

“I’m really happy for you two but if you ever hurt my brother, I am not going to react well,” Sam warned, still grinning which made him look even more like a fucking psychopath. _Jesus fucking christ_ , where the hell had that come from?

“Sammy,” Dean squawked, “what the hell?”

“What?” Sam shrugged innocently. “I’ve got to give him the little brother speech.”

“No, you really, _really_ don’t.” Dean squeezed Cas’ hand, pulling him closer towards him protectively. Cas was the perfect fucking boyfriend who wouldn’t have dreamt of hurting Dean so there was no fucking way he needed to be given any kind of speech to let him know that he needed to treat Dean right.

“And what the fuck is the little brother speech?” Dean pulled a face, close to throwing something at his brother who looked far too pleased with himself. “That doesn’t even _exist_ , Sammy.”

“Yeah, it does,” Sam retorted.

“I didn't threaten Jess when you two started dating,” Dean pointed out, much to Jess’ amusement.

“That's cause you knew that Sam was winning the lottery by dating me and you didn't want to ruin it.” She wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist, kissing him on the cheek. She grinned when she saw Sam’s indignant expression to say that he’d been the lucky one even though he always said the same about their relationship.

“And Sam knows that you and Cas are perfect each other too.” She laughed lightly, standing on her tiptoes to mess up her boyfriend’s hair. “When you get married by the way, I better be a bridesmaid.” She threatened, waving her finger at Dean and Cas. “I helped save your cat so Dean could give her back to you and meet you for the first time. Come on, that's gotta give me some brownie points.”

“Actually,” Castiel finally spoke up, dealing with this far too well for a guy who was being mildly threatened by a fucking _giant,_ “Aniel should be getting all the credit. She was the one who found Dean and brought him to me.”

“Yep,” Dean nodded happily, “Anna'll be a bridesmaid instead. Thanks for the offer though, Jess.”

“Assholes.”


	15. Chapter 15

Whilst Castiel was happily enjoying his new shower at home, Dean had decided to look at porn. Probably not the best decision of his life, but he’d been wondering about some things for a while now and he needed to sort the shit out in his head.

Without much thought, he went to one of his go to sites for porn. This time though, he clicked on the gay section of the website, something he'd never done before except that one time when he'd idiotically put a video up on Sam's laptop for a joke. Which on hindsight was kind of a shitty, homophobic thing to do. Funny how shit like that came back in Dean’s mind and made him cringe.

And shit, there were a hell of a lot of options to choose from. Blow jobs, bareback, straight turned gay, and so on and so on. Jesus, Dean had had no idea there were so many different videos out there. Wasn’t there just a normal option? Why the hell did he have to go through ten billion things to get a normal ass video to watch?

With clear intent in mind, Dean chose the simple option of anal fucking, skipping past the ones that were titled breeding. That shit sounded terrifying. He did not want to know what the fuck that was thank you very much.

After scrolling through a few pages, very aware that Cas took a while in the shower but not _that_ long, Dean finally found a video that looked half decent. The title didn’t sound too intimidating, like he was about to watch something that would make him feel like he needed to go to jail, and the screencap looked fairly harmless for porn.

Dean pressed play, turning the volume down a few notches before he did. It would just be his luck for the porn to blare out so loudly that the entire fucking street heard it. He could imagine having to sheepishly explain to Castiel and all his poor neighbours why he’d been watching gay porn at midday.

The storyline was a simple one, just like most porn. The smaller guy, who Dean knew would probably be called a twink, was new to the office and the big burly guy that looked somewhat like a teddy bear was helping him learn the ropes. It wasn’t difficult to see where it was going to go. One second they were shuffling paperwork, the next they were fondling each other over their suits and the smaller guy was mouthing at the other’s hardening cock over the fabric of his dress pants.

Dean rolled his eyes at how they were suddenly undressed with a blink (he’d never understood why porn skipped the stripping bit, the anticipation of that shit was fucking _good_ ). Both of their dicks were already hard as the smaller guy was bent over the desk, legs spread wide as his ass cheeks were separated by the bigger guy’s hands, exposing his wet hole to the camera.

On the couch, Dean adjusted his pants, already feeling flustered as the twink moaned. Yup, he was definitely interested in guys. Not just Cas. Definitely bisexual. He really should have figured that shit out sooner. It shouldn’t have had to wait until he’d met Cas, jesus.

But then Dean was distracted as the big guy pushed his cock slowly into the smaller guy’s already wet hole. Wait, hadn’t they fucking missed something? And missed something fucking _important?_ Dean cursed, realising that gay porn was probably going to miss out the necessary steps of sex, the sole reason as to why Dean was watching the damn thing.

Just as he was about to find another video and hope that that one actually _showed_ the in between part of nakedness and being able to take a dick in the ass, Cas’ footsteps were on the stairs. Thankfully this time around, Cas had made a noise, unlike other times where he’d seemed to appear from fucking nowhere. How the fuck Cas managed to get around silently, Dean had no fucking clue. Maybe it was the fluffy socks he was always wearing.

Instantly, Dean slammed the laptop shut, trying his best to look as innocent as an angel as Cas came into the room. Whilst entering, Castiel was rubbing a towel against his hair, doing his best to dry off. As always, his hair was still soaked when he curled the towel into a ball in his hands. Once he saw Dean’s flushed cheeks and far too innocent smile, Cas’ expression changed.

“What were you doing?” Castiel asked, throwing the towel in the direction of the kitchen without much effort. It was a good job Dean loved Cas so much, else his eye would be twitching at the careless messiness Cas was making.

“Uh,” Dean scratched the back of his neck, shrugging, “nothing. Just looking at some more engineering jobs.” He lied through his teeth.

Castiel stared at him like he was being an idiot. “You wouldn’t hide that from me. I know you’ve been looking for engineering jobs in town.” He said with a frown. It was a new thing, Dean looking for the engineering jobs that were out there. He hadn’t applied for any yet, he wasn’t sure he was ready, but there was no harm in looking at what there was to offer. Talking more and more with Missouri was helping him and he was starting to see the stupidity of having worked so hard for a degree just to turn his back on the work he’d so loved.

“I wasn’t hiding.” Dean grumbled, trying his best not to grip onto the laptop too hard. Even though he didn’t want Cas to get his hands on the thing, if Dean threw himself on top of it and refused to let it go, Cas would know there was something fishy going on.

“Dean.” Castiel chastised him as he sat down next to Dean. And then he was snatching the laptop out of Dean’s lap. With Dean not having chance to grab it back, Cas pulled the laptop lip back up. As soon as it was open far enough, the video started playing again. And of fucking course, because Dean had the worst fucking luck in the entire _universe_ , it was one of the louder parts, the bottom making plenty of noise as the top pretty much slammed into him, rough and hard as he forced the bottom’s head down onto the desk.

   “You were watching pornography.” Cas squinted, head tilting to the side as he observed the video. If Dean wasn’t wishing to hide in a cave, he’d find Cas’ reaction to pornography kind of hilarious. And wishing there was some kind of avalanche in that cave that flattened him with rocks. Anything but having to explain why he was sitting there watching fucking gay porn while his boyfriend showered.

Dean’s cheeks coloured as he quickly reached over and paused the video to try and savour any further embarrassment. “Uh,” he coughed, “maybe?” He didn’t look up at Cas, too mortified at what he’d been caught doing. This was perhaps even worse than the time his mother had walked in on him browsing through a dumb website that had been more erotica than porn when he’d been a curious teenager. He hadn’t even been jacking off, he’d just been looking to see what all of the fuss was about. Cue his mom and dad giving him the sex talk and his parents _always_ knocking his bedroom door from then on just in case. Shit, Dean’s life was just one awkward encounter after another.

“Why?” Castiel asked, voice serious and a little concerned. “You know you could have just joined me in the shower.”

And now Dean was even more horrified at the implication Cas was making. “No!” He practically yelled. “I wasn't doing it because –“ he slammed his eyes shut, complaining, “jesus, Cas.”

Okay, this was way fucking worse than when his parents had sat him down and told him the birds and the bees and how to put a condom on. At least then his boyfriend hadn’t been implying that Dean had been trying to get his rocks off from pornography rather than his actual, _willing_ boyfriend. Oh god, Dean was never going to fucking live this down.

Dean didn’t open his eyes, even when he could feel Cas’ eyes burning onto him. Dean knew what Cas was trying to do, trying to work out why Dean would be sitting there watching gay porn if it wasn’t for the sake of getting off. And clearly, Cas didn’t come up with a good enough conclusion, merely asking. “Dean?”

Dean groaned, wondering whether it was actually possible to die from embarrassment. He’d heard the saying but was it actually a thing? Because if it was, he was going to just curl up and fucking die.

“I was just looking at how gay sex works, okay?” He blurted, voice far too loud. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he winced. This was probably one of the worst moments of his life, it had to make the top ten. He was never going to fucking live it down, Cas was forever going to look at him and think about the time that he’d caught him looking at gay porn to see how sex works. Fucking _great._

 But then Cas did the total opposite of what Dean thought. Unlike how Dean expected him to react, either confusion or laughter, Castiel just murmured a thoughtful. “Oh.” He grappled with the laptop as he plonked himself on top of Dean’s lap with an oof on both of their behalf’s. And then he was dropping the laptop on his own lap, shuffling on Dean’s thighs to get comfortable on his new seat.

“Pornography isn't the best place to research. They hardly ever show the prep involved. The best thing to do is just search for it on a search engine, there's a lot more information that comes from that,” he paused, looking at the search engine as he thought about it, “but there might be more amateur pornographies that show prep too, let me look.”

Castiel went back onto the porn site Dean had been on, instead going to the amateur section of the website, rather than the more professional videos that Dean had been looking through. Okay, so that was a plot twist.

"Wait," Dean tried to get his head around it, "you've searched for this before?"

"Of course.” Castiel shrugged, like it was no big deal as he poured through the content of anal sex. "I wanted to make sure that if we were to ever perform anal sex, we would be able to do it correctly and safely. It’s very important, Dean.” He explained slowly, though Dean didn’t feel like an idiot like he sometimes had when teachers had explained arguably simple shit to him. That was one good thing about Cas, if Dean actually focused on him rather than his own dumb brain, he’d realised that Cas never once treated him like an idiot.

"Right," Dean replied after thinking about it, “that makes sense, especially seeing as you like to plan ahead."

Of course Cas had already looked into it, wanting to make sure that he knew everything about it before they actually tried it. Seeing as Dean was Cas' first ever partner, Castiel was more than happy to learn things along the way. There'd been a couple of times in the bedroom where Cas had said he'd wanted to try something out that he'd read about, a different way of doing a blow job, even mentioning 69’ing at one point. The whole thing was kind of endearing, of Cas who had been a virgin not so long ago taking control and deciding what he wanted to do with Dean.  He’d had no qualms about asking, no blushing or mumbling, he’d just come out and said what he’d wanted and they’d tried it out. It made perfect sense that he'd already looked into anal sex, wanting to be well informed on the matter so they'd get it right. And more importantly, not hurt the other, something that Dean was more than terrified of. Hurting Cas was the last thing he ever wanted to fucking do.

"Here," Castiel chose a video, double clicking it on the mousepad, "I remember seeing this one when I searched. It shows the prep involved."

"Okay.” Dean nodded, squeezing Cas’ middle as he watched the screen with curiosity. Unlike the more professional videos, the lighting was grainy, but enough to be able to see two men on bed, one lying on top of the other as they made out. The one on the bottom was wearing a jock strap, Dean realised with a squint, something that was apparently a big thing in gay porno’s, though Dean wasn’t sure why. He guessed it did make the guy’s ass perkier.

While the camera was positioned kind of far away, Dean could still make out the bottle of lube, the guy on top squirting a generous onto his fingers.

“I knew there was lube involved.” Dean mumbled, not wanting to sound like a total dunce on the whole thing. Sure, he’d never had sex with a guy until Cas, but he knew _some_ of it at least. Well, he liked to think so anyway.

“Hmm.” Castiel agreed, watching the video intently, though it looked like he was watching a bee documentary rather than porn. His head was tilted like a baby bird, blinking with a slight frown on his lips as he gazed at the movements of the two men.

The guy without the jockstrap leapt back so he was on his knees and the guy who was lying down opened his legs to accommodate the new position. Cock hard, jockstrap moaned, perhaps a little too enthusiastically (but Dean didn’t know how it felt, so maybe that was normal?) as the other one pressed his fingers against his hole, massaging it before pushing a finger inside.

“See,” Castiel said quietly, “finger by finger.”

Dean watched the two men on screen for a moment, how they built up the fingers as the guy on the bottom moaned. They were making it all look perfectly easy, nothing to worry about at all. And yet, there was something that was bothering Dean.

“Don’t you worry about – I mean –“ Dean sighed, unsure of how to word it without actually _saying_ it.

“Worry about what?” Castiel asked, twisting his head to look at Dean curiously. Dean wished he was watching the porn still, at least then Dean could pretend his cheeks hadn’t turned into tomatoes.

“Well,” Dean picked at the ratty t-shirt Cas had thrown on, “you're shoving your dick where I, y'know,” he sighed, nuzzling his nose against Cas’ spine so he had an excuse not to look at Cas in the eye, “where other things happen.”

“Oh.” Castiel understood, resting his hands on Dean’s to help ease some of the worry building up inside of him. Cas was good at that, not making fun of Dean for voicing his insecurities, always one to treat them seriously and help Dean deal with them rather than laughing them off like Dean was being childish. “Well, there are anal douches for that if that would make you more comfortable, but you can't use them too many times. And from what I've read, if you have a certain diet and you are more, ah,” he paused as he tried to think of the right words, “aware about your body, then there is nothing to worry about. I thought we could perhaps try without one and then if we change our minds and want to buy one, we can.”

“Right, okay.” Dean nodded, relaxing a little; Cas had clearly done his research on this so Dean didn’t have to. That had been the one of the most frightening parts of anal sex for Dean, that and whether it would hurt. But the pain aspect wasn’t too scary for him, he knew Cas would make sure that they were both safe and comfortable. Dean knew he didn’t have to worry about it hurting, not when he was going to be doing it with Cas.

Castiel nudged Dean, forcing him to look at him properly. It was difficult, but Dean managed to glide his gaze up to Cas’ baby blues. God, for someone who was used to having one night stands and being damn _good_ at it, Dean sure had turned shy when being confronted with his boyfriend talking about having a dick inside him.

 “And the way you phrased that,” he squeezed Dean’s hands, “does that mean you want to bottom the first time we do this?”

Dean’s gaze darted to the screen, of jockstrap guy panting as the guy on top fucked him with his fingers. Jockstrap was writhing, one hand locked around the other’s forearm as the other guy opened up his hole, scissoring and curling his fingers to hit the sweet spot that Dean knew was in there somewhere. And then Dean was imagining him and Cas in that situation, of Dean lying back and letting Cas go to town, of Cas’ concentrated expression as he pressed the first digit inside of Dean, a place that no one else had been before. Of Cas entering him with a soft push and gasp.

“Yeah.” Dean said quietly, nodding.

“Okay.” Castiel agreed, gently putting a hand to Dean’s face so he could turn it, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. “I’d like that,” he smiled against Dean’s lips. Dean sighed in relief, glad that they’d had the awkward chat there and then. He’d been thinking about it a lot the past few days, of taking that final step or whatever and going the full way together. And he’d been thinking about which part he’d want to play. It was new fucking territory, he didn’t know how it would feel or what it would be like to have something up _there,_ but the more he’d thought about it, the more he’d pictured himself being the one to take it. Hell, if he was gonna do something new, he might as well make it entirely fucking _new._

“Looks like they're getting to the good part.” Dean nodded towards the laptop, a condom being placed on the guy on top. There was hardly any speaking, just the whirring noise of a shitty microphone as the condom was peeled on. And then the guy on top was positioning himself, holding his cock in one hand as he pressed it against the now wet hole.

“I kinda like the shitty storylines though, they help me get into them.” Dean admitted, missing the initial build up that the more professional videos had. They were always shit and cheesy, but Dean kind of liked the shittiness and cheesiness. It brought up more anticipation and had Dean building up and up alongside the porn stars, only letting himself release when they did. When it was amateur grainy videos, there was nothing to start from, it just went straight from porn.

“I don't like watching porn.” Castiel replied, still squinting at the video. Dean swore the guy needed glasses.

“You don't?” Dean frowned; sure, Dean didn’t like some pornos that were out there. Like the ones where there were four guys manhandling a girl and using her as their own personal sex toy. They’d never been Dean’s thing, they’d always made him uncomfortable as he thought about what the girl really thought about being thrown around. Sure, they got paid, but Dean doubted that the pay was so fucking good that you’d be happy to have five guys groping you and jacking over your face.

And there were always the shitty ones where it was all about the guy and whether he was enjoying himself or not. Dean had never gotten those. But then again, maybe he hadn’t liked those that focused a little too much on the man because he’d actually subconsciously _wanted_ to see the guy with his inexperienced bisexual eyes and he just hadn’t realised it at the time. Honestly, all of Dean’s past sexual experiences, especially with watching pornography, was now a cluster fuck of confusion because he’d finally figured out he was actually bi. But that was fine. Dean didn’t need to look back and have an explanation for everything he’d ever felt or wanted, all he knew was that now, he wanted to have sex with Cas.

Yeah, Dean could understand if there were certain types that Cas didn’t like, either morally or because they were just shit, but disliking porn altogether was new. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone who’d been so truthful as to just come out with not liking porn at all.

“No, it doesn't really make me feel anything.” Castiel added.

“This doesn't do anything for you?” Dean asked with raised eyebrows, watching the one guy slowly start to slide his hips back and forth, jockstrap guy on the bottom gripping his back, holding him tightly. There was more romance in this video than the more professional videos, Dean realised. This one had clearly been done by boyfriends, or two guys who liked to fuck each other anyway. It was the way they kissed more, how they held each other like teddy bears as the guy thrust in and out.

"No,” Cas shook his head, “while watching it, if I think about you and us doing that, I enjoy it. But just watching them perform the act doesn't interest me.” He shrugged, seemingly not bothered that that was the case.

“Huh.” Dean huffed, thinking that it explained why Castiel was looking at the video like it was an educational documentary, rather than something that was meant to make you put your hand down your pants.  Maybe that was just the way; some people liked porn and some people didn’t. Even when Dean had been a virgin himself, a long time ago now, he’d still enjoyed it, sneaking off to watch some videos that he knew he probably shouldn’t have been watching. He’d only stuck to the vanilla ones, too horrified by any of the other more explicit shit. But he could understand why maybe it wouldn’t interest other people if he thought about it harder. People like Cas – who obviously waited until the guy they really fucking _liked_ to have sex with – probably wouldn’t see the point of watching two strangers having sex. It would be like Dean watching one of Cas’ dumb, boring animal documentaries.

“It clearly interests you though.” Cas said knowingly, wriggling his ass on Dean's lap to further spur on Dean's boner

“Yeah, well,” Dean stilled Cas’ hips by hands so he could run his hands up Cas’ t-shirt, hands roaming Cas’ stomach as he nipped at Cas’ jaw, “it would interest me more if it was us doing it though.”

Castiel leant back to Dean’s touch, a small groan escaping the back of his throat as his hands covered Dean’s. God, Dean loved how receptive Cas was. Even the smallest of movements, the shortest of sentences, would send Cas swooning and groaning. He never needed anything more than a flick of Dean’s tongue or a gentle suck on his neck.

 Just as Dean was about to say to hell with it, and shove them both up to the bedroom and get horizontal, there was a knock on the door.

“Hey,” Sam’s foghorn voice managed to reach them because he was a fucking _foghorn,_ “it’s us.”

Dean groaned, hiding his face in Cas’ neck. Fucking typical. His brother was a cockblocker and he didn’t even fucking realise it. He never wanted to punch his little brother, but now in the current circumstances, he was pretty close. “Ugh. God, my little brother has the worse timing sometimes.”

Castiel pecked his forehead with an amused smile, though Dean swore he looked just as put out as Dean felt. Cas had wanted to get naked there and then as much as Dean had. Sam had a lot to fucking answer for.

“I'll answer it, you try and calm down.” Castiel smiled knowingly.

Dean pulled a face. “My brother is at the door, that's enough to put this thing down.” He pointed at his rapidly deflating dick. Okay, he really was going to kill his little brother.

Castiel rolled his eyes, giving Dean a fond kiss before climbing off his lap to answer the door. Shutting down the website, Dean switched off the laptop, relaxed in the knowledge that there wasn’t going to be any random moans coming from the speakers. If he’d been mortified with Cas catching him out, he’d be downright wanting to die if Sam and Jess caught him. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d be asking them to fucking shoot him if they realised he’d casually watching porn to see what all the fuss was about with anal sex.

“Hey guys.” Dean announced when Castiel came back with Sam and Jess, who were smiling happily. They’d only been to the house once before, helping out with some of the furniture that Cas had bought from one of the cheap furniture stores in town that Dean had _finally_ managed to take him to. It had been a slow progress, but now Cas’ house was filled with fixtures, ornaments and little knick knacks. No longer did it feel like Cas was going to up and leave at any point. It hadn’t been until the place had been completely finished that Dean had realised that had actually been a silent worry of his.

“Hey,” Sam smiled, “what have you two been up to?” He looked at Cas, with his wet hair and damp clothes and came to some sort of horrifying conclusion by the look on his face. “Why are you all wet?”

“Sammy, I don’t want you to freak out or anything,” Dean said, voice serious, “but there’s this thing called a shower.” Dean rolled his eyes; first, Sam was cutting in to Dean and Cas’ porn watching and now he was implying that he and Cas had just done some weird sex game that involved getting Cas wet, but not Dean. Seriously, Dean worried about his little brother sometimes, there was definitely something wrong with him.

“Fuck you.” Sam retorted, dropping onto the spare couch with Jess, who was laughing away at all of their idiocy, a very Jess thing to do. She loved to just watch and listen to all of their dumbass comments and then make fun of them. In short, she was a fucking child. And Dean loved her for it.

Dean grinned widely. “Love you too Sammy.”

“Do you want a drink?” Castiel offered, now an expert in ignoring Dean and Sam’s childish banter. He hadn’t quite known how to take it when he’d watched their interactions the first few times, but he’d soon realised Sam and Dean said awful things to each other as a way of saying they cared. Only those with siblings would understand, so it just meant Jess and Cas could roll their eyes at each other whenever Sam and Dean started being dumb again. No wonder Cas and Jess got on so well.

“They can get their own, they’re not invalids.” Dean pointed out, scowling at his little brother. He still hadn’t forgiven him about interrupting possible sex. That was going on Sammy’s list for a good few weeks, maybe even years, the fucker.

Sam promptly ignored him, something that had become a specialty ever since he was a new-born. “A coffee please.”

“Can I have tea?” Jess asked. “One sugar and then some milk, please.”

“Okay.” Castiel nodded, off to the kitchen, looking pleased that someone else liked tea as well as him. He’d probably have a freak out if he realised Jess liked all the weird tea choices too, like green tea and camomile. Dean wanted to be sick just thinking about them. How the fuck could something called green tea taste good?

“We’re guests, Dean,” Jess reminded him with a tease, “you’re supposed to be nice to us.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Dean retorted. “You’re not my guest so I don’t.”

“We are,” Sam said, smug, “you basically live here nowadays.”

“I don’t.” Dean replied curtly, though the heat on his cheeks were saying otherwise. Damn his face for never cooperating with him. One time he’d like to have it so his face would stay its normal fucking colour when he was dealing with something embarrassing. Just one fucking time. Was that too much to ask?

“Yeah, you do. We’ve had to come to _Cas’_ house so we can see _you_. Because you’re always here.” Sam laughed. “You live here, Dean.”

Jess nudged Sam in the ribs, adding. “Stop teasing your brother.”

Dean kept quiet, not quite thinking of a good retort. That was the problem, sometimes he could think of the best replies that would knock Sam’s socks off and have him pouting for days, and then other times, Dean couldn’t even think of a half decent response. So he had to keep quiet instead, arms still crossed as he angrily digested Sam’s words; angrily, because he knew they were true.

As a helpful distraction, Anna came trotting in.

“Hey Anna.” Dean said, wondering whether Anna would like him this time around or not; she had her good days and bad days with Dean, choosing whether to be near him or stay completely away. She liked to play hot and cold with him. So Dean always took her good days to his advantage and gave her neck scratches whenever she would let him. Funny how Dean used to be wary of cats and now he was desperate for one to love him.

Anna, however, had bigger worries because there were two other people invading her property. Two people she didn’t know very well. Her tail went fluffy as she stopped in her tracks, staring at Jess and Sam intently.

“Oh, don’t you like these mean people in your house?” Dean cooed.

“Aw,” Jess sighed unhappily, “she probably remembers that I helped the vets clean up her leg. Animals don’t forget these things, y’know.”

As Jess spoke, Anna jumped up onto the couch next to Dean, sitting next to his leg as she stared at the intruders.

“You’ve come to protect me, huh?” Dean grinned, ruffling the back of her neck before dropping his hand; he couldn’t stroke her for too long or she’d get crabby and attack him. But her eyes were still busy watching Sam and Jess to care about what Dean was doing. She looked one second from launching herself at their faces.

“She likes you now then?” Sam asked, surprised.

“Comes and goes,” Dean shrugged, “but she lets me stroke her sometimes. And she doesn’t jealously claw my eye out when I kiss Cas, so that’s good.” He grinned. “And right now, I’m the lesser of two evils with you two are sitting here.”

Jess was still unhappy, pouting forlornly. “I don’t like it when an animal doesn’t like me.”

Castiel arrived with two cups in his hands. “Here are your drinks.”

There were chimes of a thank you as both Sam and Jess accepted their mugs, cradling them in their palms. One of the countless things Cas was good at was making a good beverage. He’d been a little shit at making coffee because he didn’t like it himself but now he was an expert, much like how Dean had been made to become an expert on making the best cup of tea.

“We were talking about Anna,” Dean gestured to the cat who was now squashed between the two of them as soon as Castiel sat down, “and how she’s picky when it comes to people.”

“Oh.” Castiel nodded, scratching Anna’s ears without any complaint from the cat; Castiel was definitely some kind of animal whisperer. Dean had perhaps saw Anna try and bite Castiel twice compared to the hundreds of times she’d tried to attack Dean. Anna was picky and had a short fuse and Cas had the patience of a saint and was a miracle worker. They were a perfect fit.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a pet yourselves.” Castiel said to Sam and Jess, huffing when Aniel got up onto his lap so she could knead his thighs.

“Oh, we’d love to,” Jess sighed, “but we want a dog.” She smiled apologetically to Cas. “We’re dog people, sorry Cas.”

“What, you think Cas is a cat person?” Dean snorted. “Please, if he could have every single animal living with him, he would. And then he’d want a second one of them all to keep the first one company. The guy’s not a cat person, he’s an animal person. He’ll be the guy of our generation to build Noah’s ark, I’m telling you.”

Sam and Jess laughed, whilst Castiel just smiled fondly at Dean, clearly pleased that Dean had figured that out about him. Not that it was hard to figure out with the way Cas watched animal documentaries with a dramatic clutch to his heart and how he would always carefully take the spiders outside so Anna couldn’t eat them. That shit was endearing as hell.

“Well yeah, we want a dog,” Jess admitted, still grinning, “and at the moment, we’re too busy to have one. It wouldn’t be fair on the little guy. But when Sam’s at law school and we move to a bigger place, we might get one, it depends on how busy we’ll be.”

“That makes sense.” Castiel nodded. Dean nodded too, though he’d heard it all before. Sam and Jess were always talking about their non-existent pet and all the cute things they would buy for it. They were desperate. Hell, Jess had gotten drunk once and had cried for thirty minutes when she’d remembered they didn’t have a dog. In short, they were both ridiculous and needed to get a life.

“Have you decided on what law school yet? Or are you still thinking about it?” Castiel asked, catching on to one part of what Jess had said. At the question, he wrapped a casual arm around the back of the couch so he could play with Dean’s hair, a simple touch that was supposed to relax Dean. Cas knew the subject of Sam’s law school had been an incredibly sore spot at one point, he wouldn’t have forgotten Dean’s panic attack just yet. Dean doubted he ever would.

Sam’s gaze flickered to Dean, hesitating. Quite clearly, Sam hadn’t forgotten about their dramatic argument either. “At the moment, it’s still up in the air, I guess. But I’m whittling it down to a few rather than a lot. It’s hard work choosing which one. It’s like, I’m gonna be signing my life away to that place, and I need to know it’s gonna be the right one for me, y’know?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Go with whichever you feel’s the best fit for you. They always say that you just know when you find the right one.” He offered. And he wasn’t just saying it to be nice and not cause trouble, he genuinely meant it. If Sam decided to go to a law school hundreds of miles away, Dean would be upset, _of course_ he fucking would. If Dean was being honest with himself, he knew he’d probably have some kind of breakdown too. But if he did, he couldn’t blame Sam for it. Sam was living his life for him, just like he should. Dean couldn’t guilt him into choosing something that was right for _him._

“Yeah,” Sam’s shoulders relaxed, “I’m gonna go look at a few during their open days so I’ll be busy next month.” He hesitated again, looking at Jess for support, who took his hand with her free one. With the courage gained from simply holding his girlfriend’s hand, Sam offered with a weak smile. “You could come to some if you wanted, Dean.”

Dean leant back further into Cas’ touch, the soothing touch necessary in moments like this. “If they’re on the weekend, I could come to some, I guess.” The thought of going to law schools that might be miles away made him want to vomit and he’d have to make sure to keep his mouth shut when he wanted to talk shit about them so Sam wouldn’t want to go to the ones that weren’t near. But Dean would do it. He’d go to them and help Sam feel more at ease. He knew Sam was still second guessing his choices, whether or not it would make him a bad person if he moved away from Dean. And Dean needed to make sure Sam stopped thinking that shit.

“So long as there’s no planes involved.” Dean said, half because he wasn’t getting on a fucking plane for anyone, half because he was subtly wondering whether any of the law schools Sam had picked out would make a plane necessary.

Sam’s shoulders sunk in relief. He obviously hadn’t been expecting Dean to be so open to the idea. “No,” he started to smile, “there’s no planes involved. None of them are that far away. Some might take a while driving though, but you don’t have to come to those if you don’t feel like you’re ready.”

“No, I’d be okay with them. I’d have to speak to Missouri though, make sure she thinks the same.” Dean shrugged. He knew now that he should consult Missouri about this kind of shit rather than just assuming he could do it and then falling into a trap of yet another panic attack. Sometimes, Missouri knew more about what he could handle than he did himself.

“Okay. Good.” Sam grinned, now looking far more relaxed than he did a few seconds ago. And then he was getting a smirk which had Dean already expecting the worse. “Cas can come too if you’re worried about having separation anxiety.”

Of course, Cas completely missed the point, not noticing that Sam was making fun of Dean. “I’d like to come.” He offered, massaging the nape of Dean’s neck comfortingly. And that just made Sam laugh all the more, shoulders shaking as he tried to stop himself. Castiel frowned, looking at Dean for him to explain what was going on.

Dean gave Sam his best death glare. “If you didn’t have a coffee in your hand, I would so throw something at your head, asshole.”

“Love you too, Dean,” Sam mirrored Dean’s earlier witty reply.

Okay, Dean was definitely going to kill his fucking brother.


	16. Chapter 16

“You did well today, Dean,” Castiel praised him as he scrubbed the dishes, Dean drying them with a towel right next to his side. Anna was also apparently wanting to help, idly sitting on the kitchen counter, lazily watching them with her head resting on a spare towel. Dean had duly noted the domesticity of it all, even when he had a million other things going on in his head.

Castiel was referring to the car journey earlier on in the day; Dean had agreed to get in a stranger’s car with Missouri. The stranger was a friend of Missouri’s, another therapist who understood the situation. Castiel hadn’t been allowed in the car; Dean had been doing so much of his car homework with the guy because they were always together and Missouri didn’t want Dean’s recovery to be too heavily relied on Cas. Which made sense, but he’d still wished Cas had been with him. He always felt so much fucking better when Cas was there to hold his hand.

The drive hadn’t been a total disaster at least. Dean had managed to get in the passenger seat, knuckles white as Missouri’s friend had driven them around a parking lot and then around some empty streets. It had been the first time Dean had been driven by someone new since Sam had OD’ed.

“I guess,” Dean dampened it down. “I didn’t freak out and puke all in the person’s car anyway.” He shrugged, placing another plate to the side; it was true, he hadn’t had a panic attack in the car so that was something. But he hadn’t exactly loved the journey, nor was he smiling from ear to ear when he’d gotten out of the car. Even now, he still had slightly wobbly legs when he thought about it, but deep down he knew how well he’d done. He wouldn’t have been able to get in a car like that only a few weeks ago.

Castiel nudged him with his elbow affectionately. “I don’t think you realise how far you’ve come from before you started therapy,” he told Dean, proudness clearly seeping into his voice. Never did Castiel try to hide his thoughts and feelings about Dean; honestly, Dean figured that Cas would be happy to sit there and talk about how proud he was of Dean for the entire day. And if Dean was being even more honest with himself, he knew that he would be happy to do the exact same thing for Cas.

“I do feel better,” Dean admitted, knowing full well if it weren’t for the guy standing next to him, he would never have gone to that first therapy session and he would still be wallowing in self-loathing. While it still hadn’t fully gone away and probably never would, he knew that therapy had changed him, completely for the better. He had a feeling that it might have ended up with something catastrophic to happen until he’d finally realised he needed therapy. He was just glad that had never needed to happen in this version of his life.

“I never really thought that talking about my shit would help but it does, especially to someone who didn’t already know it all already,” Dean explained, realising how important that had been; it was different when the person trying to help you was only hearing your stories when you felt like telling her, rather than her already knowing everything and forming an opinion already.

“Missouri might be a ball buster but she’s damn good at her job,” Dean grinned, placing another plate to the side. Apparently fed up now, Anna stood up, stretched, and then jumped off the counter to go find a different place where she wasn’t irritated. She was probably going to go find some kind of bug she could terrorise.

“I don’t know,” Dean bit his bottom lip, “I’m excited about all the progress I’m making. But it kind of terrifies me at the same time. Because the further I get, the closer I am to driving Baby.” He said, now comfortable enough to use the car’s pet name, something he hadn’t done in a long ass time. “And it’s scary,” he confessed quietly. At the words, Castiel stopped scraping the food of the dishes, giving Dean a glance to know whether he should give him his whole attention.

Dean shook his head, smiling as he nudged Cas to carry on cleaning; he didn’t need Cas to stop everything he was doing. Dean kind of liked the fact that they were doing something so Dean could be half distracted. It helped. And he couldn’t keep drying the dishes if Cas didn’t clean any of them.

“But –“ Dean fluttered his eyes shut as he spoke the sentence, longing clear, “I really want to be able to drive that damn car.” He smiled, taking the next plate off Cas. “My dad owned it before me and it used to be a home away from home, y’know?” he said, wincing when he realised that Cas didn’t know at all, he’d never had a home until he’d moved into this town. God, Dean would sometimes say the dumbest of things.

“I have a shit ton of memories with the Impala,” Dean continued, “memories from when I was a little kid right up to the crash,” he swallowed dryly, “and the crash is one of the only bad ones. Well,” he paused to take a shaky breath in and out, “It’s definitely the _worst_ one. Doubt anything is going to top that one.”

“Yes,” Castiel murmured in agreement, a way to show that he was listening. It was a comfort to Dean, however simple. He didn’t need Cas to stare at him and hold his hand and try and sing kumbaya to let Dean feel like he was being attended to.

“Y’know,” Dean grinned, choosing to go down a happier reminisce rather than a sad one, “that car was where I first got to second base with someone? Uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, “probably not something I should be telling you.” He smiled sheepishly, getting a peck on the lips and a roll of eyes for it. “I learnt that I’d got into college in that car,” Dean swiftly moved on, “and Sammy and I scratched our names into it when we were kids. At the time, Sammy even stuck a-“

“A toy soldier in the ashtray,” Castiel finished as he picked up a soapy glass.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled, slightly puzzled, “how did you know that? Did I already tell you?” he asked, trying to figure out when he told him that; it wasn’t like him to talk about the car unless he had to. Maybe Sam had told Cas instead. Sam was always talking about shit from the past, especially to people who would listen. And Castiel always liked to listen to stories from people.

A smash filled the room; the glass that Castiel had had in his hand only a few seconds ago had fallen from his grip, creating a giant crash of glass and water, soap suds splashing their chests.

If Dean were someone who thought about things too much, read in between the lines, he would have braced himself; someone dropping a glass like that never ended up turning into something good. Yet, Dean didn’t think too much about it, calling it as an accident. Cas could be clumsy sometimes.

“Cas?” Dean frowned, peering into the soapy bowl. “Shit, I think you smashed it –“

The shards of glass in the sink were the last things that Dean needed to worry about as Castiel made a deep, pained noise as his knees gave way.

“Shit.” Dean reached out to stop Cas from falling, too late as Castiel’s knees hit the floor with a deafening thwack. “Cas!” Dean dropped to the ground, following Castiel. Blue eyes were hidden as Castiel kept his eyes shut, fists clenched as he aggressively placed them against his forehead. Clearly he was in pain, face scrunched up as he shook.

“Cas?” Dean asked, scared now. Fucking _terrified._ Because what if this was something to do with Cas’ amnesia? What if it was happening all over again on Cas’ kitchen floor? What if Cas was having another episode and when he opened his eyes, they would see straight through Dean, forgetting everything they had ever had.

With the thought in mind, Dean felt like vomiting, like collapsing just as Castiel had. Because he couldn’t lose Cas, not now, not when he was so damn important to his life. Not when they’d only just got _this_.

“Cas?” Dean asked, voice small.

Dean didn’t know whether it was him speaking, or that it was just time for Cas to come back to the world. Either way, Castiel’s eyes flashed open, eyes bright and clear as he murmured just one simple word.                    

“ _Dean_.”

Sighing in relief that Castiel still remembered him, or at least his name, Dean continued to speak. “Hey,” Dean placed a trembling hand on Cas’ cheek, slowly moving his head so he could properly see his face, “look at me. Are you okay?” He asked, heart thumping painfully in his chest. Maybe he needed to call for an ambulance, get help. Cas didn’t seem to be physically hurt but his forehead was still scrunched up, his fists tight.

For a short, terrifying moment, when Castiel’s gaze turned to Dean, it was like he wasn’t seeing him. But then there was recognition, eyes widening and lips parting in surprise. And then Dean realised that the look on Cas’ face was perhaps just as terrifying as if Cas hadn’t recognised him at all.

“Dean,” Castiel choked, the word thick on his tongue. He looked like he’d just found something he’d been looking for for years. Dean remembered a tv show once, of a guy who had searched and searched for his adopted mother. At the end of the show, he finally fucking found her, after _years_ of looking, after years of being told that she was lost to him. The expression that had been carved into his features as he’d saw his mother for the very first time since he was born was extremely akin to how Castiel was looking at Dean. And it fucking terrified Dean.

“Hey,” Dean tried to soothe; he didn’t know what was happening, nor what had just caused Cas to near collapse on the floor, but he knew he had to try and stay calm until he knew that Cas was okay. “It’s okay,” he tried to smile comfortingly, his free hand reaching out to squeeze Cas’ forearm, “you’re alright.” He said, unsure of whether he believed he words. If anything, Cas looked the least okay a person could be.

“I –“ Castiel gasped, tears forming in his eyes, “I remember.”

“Remember what?” Dean asked, desperate to understand, desperate to make this _better_. Cas wasn’t making any fucking sense.

“Oh,” Castiel mouthed, cupping Dean’s face, awe like, “I never thought I’d see you again,” he whispered throatily, his eyes roaming over Dean’s features like he hadn’t seen him for years. Like a man who had been blind his entire life and was only now just seeing. Like a bird who had never been able to fly finally having it’s wings fixed and being able to take flight.

“Cas?” Dean said his name, unable to say anything else. He was scared now, really fucking scared.

“I found you again.” Castiel ignored Dean’s voice, instead reverently letting his fingertips explore Dean’s face. Again, it felt like Castiel was only just _seeing_ him. After all of their months together, it seemed like Castiel was only now acknowledging him. It was a confusing feeling; throughout their time together, Dean had always felt like Cas had just _known_ Dean from the very start. But now Cas seemed to be noticing him properly all over again. And Dean didn’t know what to fucking do with it.

“Found me?” Dean’s brows furrowed, shaking his head as he smoothed out Cas’ hair, “Cas,” he smiled, wobbly at best, “I didn’t go anywhere,” he explained slowly, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, what was still happening. “I’ve been right here sweetheart.” He said the petname that he rarely ever used, it being one step too soppy to say out loud instead of privately think. But any worry of sounding too soppy was forgotten as they knelt on the floor, Cas’ beautiful mind breaking.

Because that’s what was happening. Somehow, because of the fall, because of the trauma he had experienced previously, maybe a combination of it all, Castiel had lost it.

“You don’t understand.” Castiel shook his head, apparently as desperate for Dean to understand as Dean himself. He seemed so damn determined, gaze never leaving Dean’s as he spoke, hands never leaving Dean’s skin.

“I remember,” Cas reiterated, eyes widening, making the tears start to fall down his cheeks. The way he said it made Dean think he was supposed to understand. But he didn’t. Not one fucking part of him understood. He had no fucking clue.

“What,” Dean reached up to hold Cas’ hands still, “your memories?” he asked, playing along, hoping that he would soon realise what Cas was talking about. “From before the amnesia?”

Maybe Cas was remembering shit, or maybe he just thought he was and everything was getting jumbled. Because if Cas was remembering his past, Dean’s name shouldn’t be coming into it. They hadn’t known each other years ago. Cas wouldn’t have remembered Dean on the first meeting, but Dean sure as hell would have remembered Cas. The fall had broken Cas’ memory, had made it incoherent, and Dean needed to help him get back on track. If only he fucking knew _how_ to.

Before Castiel could reply, his eyes were slamming shut again as he groaned, a harsh noise blowing out of his mouth as he curled his body tightly. It was like he was being beaten by invisible hands, stabbed by invisible knives. Dean hadn’t saw anyone in this much pain for a long time. Dean had no idea what was going on, but Cas hurting this much wasn’t a good sign.

 “Shit,” Dean cringed, “Cas?”

“It –“ Castiel whined, eyes still closed, “there’s so much, it –“ he leant forward, either to seek more of Dean’s touch or because he couldn’t carry his body alone, “it hurts,” he moaned, pressing their foreheads together. “But I – I remember.” And even through the pain, through all of the confusion, the corners of Castiel’s mouth curved upwards as he relayed the next words. “I remember _you_. Oh, Dean,” he smiled through the silent sobs, “you’re okay,” he said, like Dean had once been anything but, “I managed to save you.”

“Save me?” Dean was crying now, tears of terror. “Cas,” his breath hitched, “I'm –“ he patted his jeans, careful not to make too much of a sudden moment, terrified of whether it would send Cas even deeper, “I’m gonna-“ he inwardly cursed when he realised his cell was on the coffee table, “I’m gonna call for some help,” he explained, slowly standing as he backed away from Cas. He kept his gaze firmly placed on him, ready to lunge at Cas if he perhaps did something stupid; Dean had no idea what he could do, but he wanted to make sure it didn’t happen. If Cas was so far gone to start talking about finding Dean again and saving him, if he was that confused, he might try and hurt himself. Dean hadn’t dealt with someone having some kind of breakdown like this before, he had no idea what Cas was capable of.

“I’m gonna call someone, because you're –“ Dean’s face crumbled as he let the sobs overtake him, just for a second, “baby, you're not making sense.”

“No,” Castiel reached out for him, tears fading as he realised he was losing Dean, that Dean wasn’t in the same part of the conversation as him, “listen to me. _Please_ , Dean.” He begged, still on his knees. “I’m your – no,” Castiel shook his head, correcting himself, “I _was_ your guardian angel.”

“Cas,” Dean choked, “I don’t –“ he shook his head, tears blinding him. He carried on walking backwards, close to the door now. He just had to get his phone and he could call someone and they’d help Cas. Maybe they’d put him in some kind of facility, one that might be like where Sam stayed, to help him get better. Dean would make sure it was a good place, a place that he could visit, where Cas would be treated right. Where Cas would get the help he needed with whatever was breaking in his mind right now. They’d know what to do. They’d know how to help him. If Dean could only get to his damn cell phone without losing sight of Cas.

Something in Cas’ face changed when he noticed how far Dean had walked away, how Dean was close to losing it himself. The determination to make Dean understand seemed to convulse into something more, a new kind of desperation as Castiel stopped crying, jaw hardening.

No longer was Castiel’s voice hitching or begging when he explained, voice quick, like he thought Dean was about to run out and leave him. “When Sam was born, you were always the one who would tuck him into bed. And you told him that angels were watching over him, just as your mother would to you.”

Dean froze, footsteps stilling. “What?”

“You heard what I said,” Castiel said, still kneeling on the floor. He no longer looked afraid though, his body didn’t look small anymore. Now he looked strong, like he’d finally been given a purpose for his life. A meaning. And the sight was even more terrifying.

“Sammy must have told you,” Dean said, not thinking it meant anything. He didn’t know where Cas was getting this idea from, how his beautiful brain was muddling things and making him think he was something that he wasn’t, that he never was.

Dean shutting him down didn’t deter Castiel, who decided to throw another fact Dean’s way. “When you were a child, you used to pray every night,” he told Dean calmly, “but when you were twelve, you stopped. Sam got hurt and broke his arm. The story that you told me,” Castiel nodded, almost looking feverish as he spoke quickly, “you blamed yourself because he was following your lead, but you were angry with God too.

“You would pray with your mother at night, you in bed, your mother sitting with you as you both closed your eyes, clasped your hands together and prayed in unison.”

“You can’t –“ Dean shook his head, mouth going dry as he tried to follow the conversation.

“The night that Sam broke his arm, your mother wanted to pray with you, like you always did. But you refused. Mary asked you why you didn’t want to pray anymore and you told her you stopped praying to Him because you felt like if He existed, He wouldn’t have let Sam get hurt. And if God was real, you didn’t think He deserved you to pray to Him because of what He’d let happen.”

Dean remembered it; while he always relayed the story of Sam breaking his arm as something humorous, it had been anything but for Dean. Sam had been following his big brother’s footsteps and he’d ended up getting hurt because of it. Because of Dean being stupid and not looking out for him. He should have been protecting him, not the one to cause hurt.

His father had never been religious, but his mother had. And Dean had followed his mother, believing in a God and angels and everything in between. But as soon as Dean had seen his brother’s face stained with tears as he got the cast put on his arm, Dean had stopped believing. Even when his mother had tried to explain that sometimes God gave us things that tested our beliefs, Dean still hadn’t budged, something Mary had nodded along with. She never pushed for him to change his mind, even if she was privately sad that her son had stopped believing alongside her.

“I didn’t tell anyone about that but my mom,” Dean replied defensively, almost accusingly. Because Cas shouldn’t know that. He _couldn’t_ know that. And it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t that Cas couldn’t have known, it was the way he was using it too. Using it as an emotional bargain to get Dean to believe in whatever Cas’ head had cooked up with.

_No_ , this wasn’t Cas’ fault. He was having some kind of breakdown and Dean couldn’t blame him for using things against him. It wasn’t his fault. Dean could see in the determination in Cas’ bright, wild eyes that he believed what he was saying. This wasn’t some weird practical joke or something that Cas doubted; completely deep down to his core, Castiel believed what he was saying.

“She must have – she must have told Sam at some point,” Dean tried to explain how Cas knew that, to himself or to Cas, he wasn’t sure, “or maybe Bobby or Ellen-“

“Dean,” Castiel interrupted his words, “she didn’t tell anyone but John, your father. And he didn’t tell anyone either. The reason I know is because I was there when you decided you didn’t want to pray anymore,” he patted his chest desperately, gripping the fabric of the plaid shirt he’d stolen from Dean, “I was there when you stopped believing in God and the chance that angels were watching over you.”

The tears were blinding Dean’s vision, breaking his throat. “I’m sorry Cas, I don’t – I think I should call someone –“ he started to back away again, realising that Castiel was gone even further than he’d originally thought. Dean didn’t know whether even professionals could fix this. Not properly.

Still undeterred, Castiel stood up, looking mighty even though he had to hold onto the kitchen counter as he stood, slightly swaying. He was still in pain, Dean realised. “When you were fourteen, you started looking at lots at textbooks. You kept looking at skin pigmentations.” Castiel shook his head, puzzlement in his furrowed brows, like he was reliving the confusion. “At first, I didn’t understand what you were doing and why you were doing it so secretly. But then I realised,” a small smile on his lips, repeating the sadness of the story, “some childish classmates had been making fun of your freckles. So you went and looked in text books to see why you had freckles and whether you could get rid of them. Because you didn’t realise how beautiful they were.”

“I never told anyone…” Dean stumbled, both on his words and his feet. “How the hell can you know that?” he demanded, voice rising as he got more and more terrified. Because he was now. Instead of being worried for Cas’ sanity, now he was concerned for his own. Because this couldn’t be happening, none of this could be happening. Cas couldn’t know that. He _couldn’t._ This wasn’t fucking happening, this was some weird fucking dream or joke.

Castiel gave him another sad smile, one that indicated that he knew something that Dean didn’t. “Because I was there, because I saw it.”

“That's –“ Dean struggled for air, trying to gasp for needed oxygen, “that’s not possible.”

“ _Dean_.”

“Angels don't exist,” Dean insisted, because they didn’t. He’d once believed in them. At one point in his life, the only way his mother could calm him was if she promised that angels were watching over him, that he was safe. But that was when he was a child, protected by innocence and his mother’s warm hugs. Not now. Not after everything he had seen in life, not now he was in the real world. His mother had been wrong. Angels weren’t watching over him. No one was.

Almost as if he was reading his mind, Castiel argued, voice gentle, “That's not what your mother would tell you.”

“Stop it,” Dean demanded, voice a harsh contrast to Cas’ soothing tone.

Castiel didn’t relent. “Your second kiss was with someone called Penny. She was a girl you met at camp. You bit her tongue. You were so embarrassed that you never told anyone about it. And no one ever found out because she lived so far away.”

“Stop.” Dean shut his eyes, feeling dizzy now. He was going to faint or puke any second. Or do them at the same time. He was close to fucking losing it.

“Dean,” Castiel said, slowly taking his shaking hands from the kitchen counter so he could walk towards Dean. His legs were wobbly, still overtaken by whatever was hurting his mind, a wash of pain inflicting his features every few seconds. Even though he looked like he was struggling to walk, he still looked strong, ready to fight anyone who told him he was deluded or wrong.

“Cas,” Dean choked, voice cracking painfully, “you’re scaring me.” He admitted.

Castiel made a pained noise, taking the remaining steps so he could a place a hand on Dean’s cheek, one arm around his waist to prop both of them up. “I don’t mean to scare you,” he murmured, “I’m sorry Dean, I’m sorry.”

And Dean knew he was telling the truth; Cas’ aims weren’t to scare Dean into rushing off to his therapist and yelling at her to send him to a facility. Castiel’s aims were to simply tell his truth, to let Dean know that their relationship went a lot further back than either of them had realised. But Cas’ aims didn’t make any of this less terrifying. It didn’t stop Dean from wanting to fall to the floor, curl into a ball, and pretend none of this was happening. That sounded fucking delightful to him. He just needed to wake up right now and realise that this was all some weird, confusing dream that he could forget about and never think of again.

But this wasn’t some nightmare. This was real. Cas was telling him things he shouldn’t know, couldn’t know. Things that no one knew other than Dean himself. And unless Dean was actually going fucking bad and Cas was just a very vivid figment of his imagination that all of his family could see to, this was fucking _real._

“I can tell you more things that no one should know about you unless they were there,” Castiel offered quietly, “to – to prove to you.”

“No,” Dean shook his head, shutting his eyes as he waited for the nausea to pass, “I don’t – I don’t want you to –“ he pleaded weakly, “please, Cas.”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, pressing their foreheads together as they both breathed shakily against each other’s mouths. Dean shuddered at the touch. Everything was too much for him. This couldn’t be fucking real.

“I can’t believe I found you again,” Castiel murmured reverently, “it should have been impossible.”

Dean opened his wet eyes, watching Castiel as he looked over Dean’s features, a tearful smile planted on his face as he stroked Dean’s cheek. This was the gaze of a man who had lost someone he loved and, somehow, after everything, found them again. This was the touch of a man starved from the person he loved most. This was the tears of someone who had found the impossible.

And no one could fake that.

“You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” Dean whispered, slowly coming to terms with it. It didn’t make sense, of course it didn’t, but nothing logical could explain how Castiel knew more about Dean than anyone else did. If there was no logical explanation, then how could Dean avoid a completely illogical, unbelievable explanation that Cas was giving to him? Even if it made no sense, even if it was completely impossible. Angels didn’t exist. God didn’t exist. Yet, there Cas was, saying the opposite. And Dean was starting to believe him.

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief, one that showed in his deflated shoulders. “Yes.” He nodded, eager. His hands were shaking, Dean realised, against Dean’s cheeks, his cold fingertips were shivering against Dean’s clammy skin. Cas looked one second from collapsing, just like Dean felt.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. “You’re an angel?”

He couldn’t believe he was even asking the fucking question. It was ridiculous, the entire thing was fucking _ridiculous._ He shouldn’t even be entertaining the fucking conversation, he should still be calling 911 and asking for help for his boyfriend. But he wasn’t. He was standing there, asking a question that, somehow, he already knew the answer to.

“ _Your_ angel,” Castiel replied, simple and straight to the point as ever.

“Cas,” Dean drew blood inside his mouth, the taste making him wince as he felt his head go funny, “I don’t –“ he shook his head, hands coming up to grip Cas’ shirt, “I think I need to sit down,” he admitted, “and have a bottle of whisky.” He half joked.

Castiel smiled, small and unsure. “I don’t have the whisky but I have a chair,” he replied, guiding Dean to the living room so Dean could sit on the couch. Dean let himself be led like a ragdoll, his head light as he sat down, pins and needles down his legs. He still figured he was going to faint at some point, his head was pointing in that direction, but he was doing his best to hold it off, however good the notion of falling into unconsciousness and ignoring all of this shit sounded. He needed to hear the whole story, to really try and understand this shit.

“You were –“ he swallowed dryly, “you're an angel,” he concluded, still slightly unbelieving. It was like he was sitting above them, watching the scene, like it was two other people having to deal with this, not him and Cas. Because this was insane. This was _not_ fucking normal. But what other explanation was there? How could he explain how Cas suddenly knew so much about him? He’d never told anyone about the freckles thing. Sure, his mother might have figured it out because she always seemed to know shit; maybe she’d realised Dean had been being self-conscious about it. But Mary would never have told anyone and Cas would never have been told. And there was no fucking way anyone could know about Dean’s kiss with Penny. After the kiss, they’d both ignored each other for the last morning of camp and hadn’t told a soul. Cas couldn’t have learnt that from Sam or anyone else. Simply put, it was impossible. That was, unless Cas had been there to see it.

“I was,” Castiel smiled, sadness burdening his eyes as he kept a hold of Dean’s hand, almost like he was afraid to let go, “not anymore.”

“Angels, they're real,” Dean said, hands shaking. He couldn’t believe he was asking the fucking question, god, what had his life become?

“Yes.” Castiel nodded, looking awfully calm for someone who had just realised that their existence had been a complete lie and he was actually something totally different. But maybe the only thing Cas cared about right now was that he was with Dean; that the man he remembered from his forgotten past was sitting right next to him, hand in hand. Maybe holding Dean’s hand was the only thing keeping Cas from going insane from all of his new memories.

“So that means, God, He's real,” Dean thought aloud, voice faint, the living room starting to go hazy around the corners of his vision.

“My Father is real,” Castiel explained.

“Your fa –“ Dean couldn’t even finish the sentence, overwhelmed.

“Just breathe, Dean,” Castiel reminded him

“Right.” Dean nodded, breathing shallow. “Breathe. I can – I can do that.” He gasped, realising that he actually really, really couldn’t fucking do that at all. Well, could anyone really fucking blame him? He’d just been told by his boyfriend that he was actually a fucking angel of the fucking lord and had watched over him his entire life. How the fuck was Dean supposed to react? Laugh it off and act like it was nothing? Just nod along like it was totally fucking normal?

“Dean,” Castiel said, calm as he twisted Dean’s head around so Dean could hazily see Cas, “look at me. Breathe in through the nose, breathe out of the mouth. Just like you practiced.” He said, clearly worried at Dean’s wellbeing.

Dean followed the instructions, not knowing what else to do. He took in a harsh breath, squeezing Cas’ hand tightly as he caught his breath. It wasn’t a full blown panic attack, but it looked like it had been heading that way. It took him a moment to sort his breathing out, to take the tightness from his ribs and stop himself from feeling like he was about to die.

“It’s alright, I’m alright.” Dean shook his head, heart beat still fast but he didn’t feel like he was about to stop breathing. “I’m fine. Well,” he laughed hysterically, “I’m not fine, but y’know.”

“Just take your time,” Cas replied, squeezing Dean’s hand.

“Take my –“ Dean laughed, well aware he was sounding manic. “So you were –“ Dean took a deep breath, rattling his heart, “you were my guardian angel. Fuck,” Dean’s fingernails dug into Cas’ hand, “I can’t believe I’m actually having this conversation.” He said, unsure of whether to laugh or cry. He’d saw people on the news who rattled off shit about how they spoke to aliens or angels or some other shit and Dean had always thought they were loonies. And now he was sitting there having the exact same conversation, believing the exact same shit. Wow, karma was a fucking bitch.

Castiel’s eyes bored into Dean, serious. “You believe me?”

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted, because he didn’t, he had no idea what he believed or didn’t believe anymore, “but I do know you can’t have known that shit unless someone had told you or that you were there yourself. And no one – I never told anyone about the dumb freckles things. And I definitely didn’t tell anyone about that kiss with Penny. And I’m guessing you know other shit about me that no one else knows as well.”

Castiel nodded. He was sticking with his word, he wasn’t telling Dean anymore shit that would send him reeling, even if more stories would mean Dean would believe him more.

“And unless you’ve been a professional stalker ever since you were a baby, I don’t think that – there’s no normal explanation, so if you say all this shit is true and you have proof or whatever, then I’ll believe you. Even if that means I’m as crazy as you are and that we both need to be locked up somewhere. Because at the moment, I’m kind of questioning my sanity,” he admitted, heart clenching, feeling like he needed help. That they both did. Maybe there were having some joint hallucination.

“I would be if I were you as well. This is –“ Castiel sighed, hands shivering in Dean’s, “very confusing, even for myself who remembers it all.”

Dean watched Cas for a moment. He just looked like any other person, albeit a beautiful one that Dean loved. Dean had always thought Cas was special, someone as wonderful as Cas shouldn’t exist. But thinking that he was once a real life angel was going to the extreme.

But Dean wasn’t going to get to the bottom of this, to see whether he really believed, unless he asked questions. He wasn’t going to get fucking anywhere if he just sat there dopily. He needed to talk, learn more things so he could figure out whether Cas was talking crazy. Or whether Dean was joining in on the crazy too.

 “If you were an angel, how are you here? Human?” Dean asked, choosing to go with a simple questions. Even though it wasn’t simple. If Dean had been told even a _week_ ago that he’d be asking someone who thought he was an angel, how he was now human, Dean would have laughed in their face until tears had formed.

“It –“ Castiel sighed again, pressing his pink lips together thinly, “it's complicated. It was punishment.”

Dean didn’t like the sound of that. “Punishment for what?”

Castiel’s gaze averted, staring down at their joint hands as he mumbled, “I disobeyed orders.”

“What does that mean?” Dean asked, choosing to focus on this small point rather than the big picture. If he focused on Cas talking about some kind of punishment, maybe Dean could ignore all the other important shit that was making his head whirl. Treat it like something was small, something he could handle. If he thought about the actual _angel_ part of it, he’d be calling up someone to come put him in a padded cell.

Castiel paused, choosing how to explain. “Guardian angels have to follow rules,” he explained slowly, “all angels have to follow rules, but when you are watching over a human, there are new ones set. You have to protect your human from certain things. But there are certain things set in the human’s life. When they are born. Sometimes, things such as meeting someone, having a certain job, enjoying a certain hobby. One thing that is almost always written is when a human dies.” He looked up at Dean, eyes wide and _haunted_. “And it’s a guardian angel’s job to ensure that these things that are written to happen, happen. There are other rules too,” he waved off, “ensuring that you don’t meddle too much into their life, don’t meddle with what another guardian angel is doing for their human, lots of other things.” He smiled wryly. “Heaven is very strict.”

Okay, that kind of made sense. Everywhere had rules. If angels were real, Heaven was real, and _God_ was real, Dean figured that they would have strict rules placed on them. If angels had all the fancy shit that he’d been taught when he was a kid, God couldn’t just have them running around causing shit. Apparently though, Castiel was one of those rebels.

“And what rule did you not follow?” Dean asked, confused as to why Cas would break any rule. Castiel, ever since Dean had known him, was the keeper of rules. For fucks sake, he didn’t even leave work a minute early, he always made sure his shit went into trashcans, even running down the street once when he’d missed the trashcan and the wind had taken his trash. Castiel was the epitome of rule keeping. Yet there he was telling Dean he had done the total opposite. Whatever reason he’d had to break Heaven’s strict oppression, he must have had a damn good reason.

“I’m not –“ Castiel looked away, gulping audibly, “I don’t think I should tell you.”

“No,” Dean countered with a frown, “tell me.”

“Dean, I-“ Castiel pleaded.

“Just tell me,” Dean tried to force it out of him, more than curious now, “I’m not gonna think bad of you or anything. I’ve broken a few rules in the past. Sure, they weren’t rules made by heaven, but they were still rules. Jesus Christ, Cas, you just told me that you were an actual _angel of the Lord_. That you were _my_ guardian angel. You just told me that and I am still sitting here listening to you and holding your hand. Apparently there’s not much you can say that’s going to make me get up and leave. You’re fucking stuck with me, even if that makes us both fucking crazy.”

Castiel looked at him wordlessly for a moment. He was considering it, Dean could see by the furrow of his brows. There was pain there too, deep into his eyes; Dean wasn’t sure whether it was because Cas was reliving so much right now, or it was because of the actual rule Castiel had broken. Just as Dean was realising that the rule was probably going to involve him, seeing as Castiel was _his_ guardian angel after all, Castiel decided to speak.

“You were supposed to die in the crash, Dean.”

Dean balked. “What?”

Castiel licked his dry lips, eyes pained. “You were supposed to die in the crash, along with your mother and father. Sam –“ he swallowed, “he was the only one who was supposed to survive.”

“I was –“ Dean’s ears were roaring, vision blackening as his brain tried to understand, “I’m supposed to be dead?” he asked.

If Dean had been given more time to think about what rule Castiel had broken, not once would Dean had thought of that one. Not fucking _once._

“Yes,” Castiel nodded, pulling both of Dean’s hands to his lap so he could hold them tightly, “it was written when you were born. Most deaths are. As soon as I met you, alongside your mother and father, I knew how you were going to die.” Cas explained. “At first it didn’t matter, you were just a human,” he smiled dryly, like he couldn’t believe that that was what he once believed, “but then as you grew up, I began to know you,” he inhaled sharply, like he was about to cry again, “began to love you.” He admitted.

“When the crash happened, I was still – I was still going to let you die, Dean,” Castiel murmured, clearly ashamed. “But as it happened, as that truck collided with the car, I just – I didn’t even think about it. I grabbed you and pulled you out of the car as quick as I could. Angels aren’t supposed to touch humans though. It’s impossible to do when you’re in full true form-“

“True form?” Dean interjected, voice faint.

“My angelic form,” Castiel explained, “that’s why no one ever sees their guardian, because we’re invisible to the human eye, because if we weren’t, no human would be alive to retell it. But sometimes it’s important that we do touch our human, to prevent them from walking into a busy road or to stop them from hurting someone else. When that occurs, we have to use all our power to be able to do it, to be able to touch without hurting the human. But I didn’t have a lot of time to get you out of the car – it was so last minute, Dean – so I didn’t do it perfectly safe.”

“The hand print.” Dean realised with a thud of his heart. All this time he’d wondered who it was, whether it had somehow been one of his family members reaching out at the last minute or it had been the stranger who had pulled him out and yanked a little too hard. He’d got a damn _tattoo_ of it. And all along, it had been Castiel. Castiel reaching out in his half angelic form to pull Dean from the car before it became a wreckage.

“Yes,” Cas agreed, “that was me. And why you were unconscious.”

“And why I –“ Dean screwed his eyes shut, thoughts coming to him suddenly, “why I was out of the car without even a scratch. It’s because you pulled me out of there.”

“I pulled you out just as the crash was happening,” Cas agreed again, rubbing Dean’s clammy hands.

“How can I know that’s real though? I don’t – I _told_ you about the crash, about the handprint. How do I know you’re not just, I don’t know –“ Dean wavered. It was true; he’d shown Cas the handprint, explained the story behind it. He’d explained that he’d came out of it all without a scratch. Sure, there was no way Cas could have known about the things he’d relayed in Dean’s childhood, but maybe there was some other kind of explanation for the crash. _Maybe_. Though it seemed very fucking doubtful.

Castiel paused, considering a reply before going straight into it. “Just before the crash, your mother was talking about the present that she and your father had bought you,” he started, Dean’s heart jolting to a sudden stop. “They were being very secretive,” Cas smiled sadly as he looked into Dean’s eyes, “I’m assuming after the crash, when you went home, you found the present on the kitchen table.”

Wordlessly, Dean nodded. It had been two days after the crash that Dean had been dragged out of Sam’s hospital room and sent home to shower, change, and get some kind of sleep. He’d only done two of the three commands before rushing back to the hospital, but he’d spotted the card written in his mother’s handwriting. The present had been money and a map of America; no plane tickets because everyone who knew Dean knew that he was terrified of flying. But there had been a map, one that circled weird and wonderful things in their country. The money was for gas and motels along the way. Ever since he was about to leave school, Dean had always talked about one day going on a long ass road trip. The plan made by his parents was that Sam could join him during the summer, and then Dean could continue on without him to see more of the sights.

Instead, the money had gone towards Sam’s hospital bills.

“You joked that your mother had gone the cheap route and just baked you pie,” Castiel smiled, still deep sadness in the corners of his lips, “and Sam said that you were being an idiot because you would have been happy with just the pie, because it was your favourite. During the talk, you were fiddling with the –“ Castiel frowned, thinking for a moment, “the second button from the bottom of your shirt. There was a loose thread there and you couldn’t stop messing with it, maybe because you were nervous about walking on stage to get your degree. Or maybe because you’ve always liked to have something to do with your hands.” His smile flashed of fondness for a moment, just as Dean was struggling for air as he wept.

“Just as you were replying,” Castiel continued softly, “the truck hit you. So I pulled you out. Where I placed you, you were on a grassy bank on the sidewalk. It must have been a place where drunkards or teenagers hung out, because there were bottles on the grass. Right next to your face, something you should have saw when you woke up, was a _Coors Crafted_ bottle.”

“Fuck,” Dean rumbled, vomit rising in his throat.

“And there were flyers scattered around. Maybe someone had been paid to put them through letterboxes and they’d dumped them, or perhaps it was an accident and the wind had taken them. They were leaflets on a company that bought gold for money, a new company. And there was – right next to where the crash happened, where I placed you, there was a woman. If she was a kind person she would have stopped to see if you were okay. She was blonde; had a pink dress on, a flower print. And she had glasses too,” Castiel finished.

No one else could have known any of that. Dean had never told Sam about what had happened when he’d woken up after the crash. He’d never spoke about the beer bottles or the flyer that had been stuck to his boot as he’d walked to the ambulance that Sam was being carried into. Nor had he ever talked about the kind woman who had sat with him, a gentle hand on his shoulder blades as she tried to soothingly talk to him as the paramedics declared his parents dead at the scene.

Dean had never told anyone. The only way that someone could know all the information – know what Dean had woken up to – was if they had been there themselves. And he knew Castiel hadn’t been there, another pedestrian worried about the casualties. Dean would have remembered him; failing that, Cas would have remembered Dean. But he hadn’t. Because he’d been forced to forget everything.

“You saved me,” Dean had a sudden realisation, tears drenching his cheeks, “even when you weren’t supposed to.” He gasped, throat protesting. “Why would you do that?”

He believed him now, Dean realised. There was no doubt in his mind. What Cas was saying was true. He wasn’t lying or mixing up the truth. He wasn’t trying to do a weird practical joke that would backfire. Castiel was telling the truth. He’d been Dean’s angel, he’d been an angel of _God._ And he’d given it all up to save Dean.

Castiel let Dean’s hands go so he could instead cup Dean’s wet face. “Partially for selfish reasons,” Castiel admitted, “because I didn’t want to say goodbye to you. But really, I saved you because I had fallen in love with you over time and I didn’t find it fair that you would die.” He smiled through tears. “And because I loved Sam too, not in the way I loved, and still do love, you, but I cared for him deeply. And I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“Sam would have –“ Dean choked in realisation, “he was the only one who was supposed to –“

“Survive,” Cas helpfully finished the sentence for him, “yes.”

Dean thought to how much of a mess Sam had been after the crash, how he’d turned to drugs and a woman who only wanted the best for herself. How he’d been lying in a hospital bed after an accidental overdose. How he’d been close to dying even when Dean had been there by his side. How much different would it have been if Dean hadn’t been there to help him get back on his feet?

“Would he have been okay?” Dean asked, voice quiet, not really wanting to know.

Castiel sighed, pausing to find the right words. “His life would have been very different,” he said cryptically.

And that was all Dean needed to know about that.

“You said there are things written that you’re not supposed to change. Is it because it changes things?” His eyes widened as he came to a startling conclusion. “Are people dead out there because of me?”

“No,” Castiel shook his head, “Dean, no, I promise you,” he told Dean, squeezing Dean’s hand tightly.

“You don’t know –“ Dean started to say, panicked, because how could Cas know whether he’d inadvertently caused someone to die so Dean could still be here? And Dean couldn’t live with that, knowing someone was dead because Cas had saved him. He couldn’t fucking deal with even more guilt in his life, no fucking more.

“I do,” Castiel reaffirmed. “Dean, no one died because you were alive. If they had, my punishment would have been a lot worse.”

“You’re sure?” Dean asked.

“Yes.” Castiel nodded. “Please. You don’t have to worry about that.”

For some reason, Dean believed him, no more questions asked.

“So your punishment was –“ Dean tried to understand; his head was starting to pound. All of this was a lot to take in and that was an _understatement_. Honestly, he was shocked that he hadn’t had some kind of aneurism.

“Falling,” Castiel replied in a clipped tone; this was a sore spot to talk about for obvious reasons. If Dean had once been an angel he would find it pretty depressing to talk about him falling too.

“And becoming human.” Castiel dropped his hands from Dean’s cheeks so he could fiddle with his fingernails, fidgeting as a way to distract himself. “It took them a long time to decide what to do with me. No one had ever disobeyed orders to save a human when they wasn’t supposed to,” he explained, telling Dean a lot about what angels were like. “At first there were calls to kill me,” Castiel explained, earning a sucked in breath from Dean, “and for a while that’s what I thought they would do. But higher powers intervened, an angel called Joshua. He speaks to God directly so when he says that you cannot kill an angel, everyone would be too terrified to go against that,” he smiled wryly, “so they decided to tear my wings off, and my halo.” He tried to keep stoic but Dean could see the flinch in his features as he said it. “And they took my grace away. And made me fall to Earth. To be human and not remember anything that had ever happened to cause me to be in that lake.”

Dean swallowed, feeling sick. “And you knew you were gonna get punished, when you saved me?”

Castiel looked up at him, an obvious answer before he even said it. “Yes,” he replied, like any other option would have been stupid.

“And you still did it anyway.” Dean didn’t even question it this time; he was quickly realising the sacrifice that Castiel had made for Dean. A sacrifice that no other angel had done before. Castiel had broken through _everything_ because he’d wanted little old Dean to survive a car crash. He had gone forward without knowing he might die himself, pushing ahead to save the man he loved who didn’t even know of his existence.

“I didn’t care,” Castiel strengthened his jaw, even though he looked like he was about to burst into tears, “I just wanted to save you.”

Dean was amazed at what Cas had done. Falling from Heaven was no easy thing; Dean would have guessed that even without Cas flinching as he spoke about it. They _tore_ his wings off. That wasn’t a simple thing. That was _torture_. And Cas did all of it for him.

“Oh Cas,” Dean’s face crumbled as he wrenched Cas into a tight hug, squeezing him tightly as his sobs ricocheted, “you saved me. And – _shit_ – you lost your wings. Everything. Just so you could save me.”

Castiel was still trying to keep calm, though it was faltering each breath he took. “Heaven had it wrong when they gave me the punishment. I was devastated to lose everything that I had ever had. Thinking about it –“ his breath hitched, pitch heightening for a moment before it went back into its normal gravel undertones, “how painful it was, I don’t – I’m not sure I can put it into words how it felt.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean mumbled against Cas’ neck, rubbing salty tears into the skin, “I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, clinging onto him tightly, almost afraid like Dean was going to be taken from him again, “but that wasn’t the most painful thing about my punishment. It was the fact that they were making me fall without my memories. I knew that when I woke up as a human, when I woke up in that lake, I wouldn’t remember you. I wouldn’t know what had happened to you. I wouldn’t have been there to keep you safe, to help you at your worst,” he was struggling to speak now, tears making him hiccup as he tried to breathe, “and that was a far worse punishment than simply falling.”

“ _Cas_.”

 “And yet –“ he pulled away from Dean’s hug, only slightly, so he could roam his eyes over Dean’s features, “we found each other again. And that should have been impossible.”

Dean exhaled slowly, sniffling, “And you remembered.” It had taken Cas a while, but after everything, he’d _remembered._

Castiel smiled through the tears, smoothing a hand through Dean’s hair. “That should have been impossible too.”

Dean pressed their foreheads together, arms wrapping around Cas’ neck as he placed their mouths closely together, feeling the gentle breeze of Cas’ breathing. “My angel,” Dean declared, voice a quiet rumble.

Castiel took a shaky breath in, still holding onto Dean’s shirt. “Does that mean you believe me?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Dean laughed throatily, tasting the salt on his lips, “even if that means we’re both crazy.”

Castiel huffed, though it was tiredly done. He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth, savouring the kiss with a quiet, uncontrolled moan. It made Dean wonder what it must feel like for Cas; he’d spent so long watching over Dean and had ultimately risked his own life to save Dean’s. And then he’d forgotten all about him until, with a cat’s help, they’d met on Earth. But Cas had fallen in love Dean all over again, even without those memories. But now he could remember. Everything. What must it feel like to remember his past life, which Dean was unknowingly in? To see the man he never thought he would meet again?

“You’re so beautiful, Dean,” Castiel whispered, stating it like it was long overdue to say. By how long Cas had known Dean from afar, Dean could understand why.

It still blew his mind that an actual _angel_ would choose Dean, a mere, dumb human, over the entirety of Heaven. Dean was just a fumbling idiot at best. Dean didn’t know much about angels; hell, he’d only learnt they existed two minutes ago, but he had a feeling that they were fucking _old_. The concept that Cas might have lived for a long ass time and had chosen to be punished just for one human; that shit was mindboggling.

Dean was unsure if he would ever understand why Cas saved him, over the millions of people in the world deserved to be saved. If Dean had to put himself on the list as to who deserved to live over others, he would have put himself far down the damn thing.

“What about – What about my parents?” Dean asked quietly.

Castiel stilled. “What?”

“I was supposed to die with them, right?” Dean winced as he said it; learning of his planned death wasn’t exactly fun to think of. All of those things he’d done in the past six years would never have happened if he’d died when it had been intended. He would have been dead, just like his parents. Sam would have been alone. He would never have met Charlie. He would never have known what it felt like to kiss someone who completely loved him. He would have lost so _much._

“Yes.” Castiel nodded, looking pained. Obviously, talking about Dean dying wasn’t a fun thing for Cas either. But that made sense seeing as he hated the thought so much he’d gone and changed fucking history to prevent it from happening.

 “But you saved me even though you wasn't supposed to,” Dean said slowly.

“Yes.” Castiel nodded again, seemingly puzzled at the switch of conversation.

Dean bit his bottom lip, gnawing at a loose part of skin. “Why didn't you save them too?” he asked, wondering whether he should ask it; for some reason, he had a feeling that this was going to break their moment.

Cas looked away, just for a flicker, but enough for Dean to dread the answer. “For a number of reasons,” he explained, clearly being careful with his choice of words. This was a sore spot. “I chose to save you at the last moment, there wouldn’t have been any time to save you all –“

“Then you could have saved them instead,” Dean interrupted with a tearful frown. It was simple. If there was only time to save one person, choose one of Dean’s parents. Keep them alive. Sam would still have had someone in his life and Dean would have had a cushy life up in Heaven.

“It’s more difficult than that, Dean,” Castiel puffed, “your parents had their own guardian angels, just like everyone else in the world. If I had tried to intervene in their deaths, they would have stopped me.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean argued, arms dropping from Cas’ neck to fall onto his own lap. The movement caused Cas’ arms to lose grip of Dean’s shirt, them hovering awkwardly in the air before Castiel placed them on his lap, hands fiddling together in that nervous way of his.

“Dean,” Castiel said slowly and meaningfully, “I do.”

“No,” Dean shook his head, shuffling backwards on his seat, “you could have tried. You watched me my entire life, you know who I am. And you know –“ Dean’s voice broke, back to crying as he thought of the possibility of his parents being alive if Cas had _tried_. “You know, if there was even the slightest chance of you being able to save them instead of me, I would have wanted you to take it. You should have fucking _took_ it.”

The only word Dean could use to describe Cas’ expression was incredibly fucking _sad_.

“Even if I had rescued them,” he said, “they wouldn’t have survived long as their guardian’s would have ensured their deaths. Not to mention that you would have been dead too.”

“I wouldn’t have cared!” Dean screamed, standing up with a jolt. He was close to throwing something or punching something; punching was better, it would hurt him more than the wall. He needed to fucking _hurt._

“It would have been done in vain,” Castiel continued, though he now sounded like he was begging, pleading for Dean to listen. “You would have died. Your parents might have survived for a moment but then they would have died too, with Heaven’s help. And Sam would have been by himself and he would have lived a miserable life all alone.”

Dean ignored what Cas was saying, because Cas was using a low blow. Using Sam against him was not the route to go down and Cas knew that. And whatever Cas said, there would still have been options that he could have taken. There was still something Cas could have done. _Something. Anything._

“Then you should have tried to save us before the last minute,” Dean told him, “then you would have been able to stop the crash from happening in the first place.”

“And then you would all have been dead,” Castiel replied simply.

“You don’t –“ Dean gasped for air, probably doing a really good impression of someone who had been starved of oxygen, was about to vomit, and crying hysterically. By a good impression, Dean meant he was basically that person.

“You don’t know that because – _shit_ –“ Dean cursed that he couldn’t voice his accusation, “you didn’t try! You could have fucking _tried_!!”

Castiel placed a placating hand up. “Dean, I know you’re upset, but you’re not listening to me –“

“I’m done with listening,” Dean snapped; he didn’t even know whether he was overreacting or just dealing with this terribly. All he knew was that his parents might still be living and breathing if Cas had made some kind of attempt. Dean might not have lived so miserably the past few years, always regretting that he had lived and his parents hadn’t. Always feeling guilty for their deaths. Hiding out in is apartment for weeks, avoiding cars, flinching at any truck that went by. If Cas had made the effort, Dean wouldn’t have been in such a fucking _mess._

“Dean,” Castiel pleaded, “please listen –“

Dean shouted over him, voice pathetically cracking. “They could still be alive if you had have _tried_.” He placed a hand on his stomach as he tried to breathe, tried to speak without vomiting. “But you didn’t even bother.”

“Dean, that’s not –“

“Forget it, Cas,” Dean shut Cas down, “just like you forgot everything else.” Dean sneered; even though he was mad, he instantly realised that was an awful thing to say. That was the lowest fucking blow to send to Cas and he knew it. But it was too late. Just like it was too late to save his parents.

Castiel flinched at the words, recoiling on the couch as tears started to fill his eyes. Dean had wounded him, he could tell. Everything was too fucking late. His parents were still dead. Dean had still dealt with awful fucking anxiety and PTSD. Sam had dealt with being addicted to drugs. And nothing was going to go back and change that.

“I have to get out of here,” Dean realised with jolt. Not even bothering to say anything else, he turned around and rushed out of the building. Unsurprisingly after what Dean had thrown Cas’ way, Cas didn’t try and follow him, nor try to bring him back.

Dean only made it to the end of the road before he was dry heaving over a drain. His stomach lurched as his tears burnt his eyes and cheeks, staining them a dirty red as he sobbed.

“Fuck.” Dean slumped onto the ground, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk as he tried to regulate his breathing and not vomit. At least dusk was darkening the streets, shadowing his pathetic frame from any prying eyes of Cas’ neighbours.

Trying to stop himself from having a panic attack, all alone on a dark street, Dean shoved his head between his legs, breathing deeply as he tried not to think about Cas, tried not to think about his dead parents, tried not to think about how he should have been dead along with them.

Dean looked up to the sky, remembering nights with his mother where they would pray silently side by side. Dean had always known what to say, what to ask from God. Some of them had been stupid, selfish things, other things had been prayers to ask for his brother to get an A in his work so he’d be happy (though Dean ever doubted Sam needed God’s help) or to beg for him to make it so his parents would stop arguing. No matter what was happening, Dean had always known what he wanted to pray for.

Now, at twenty eight years old, Dean had no clue what he wanted from a God he had stopped believing in years ago. More importantly, did Dean even deserve to ask God for things when not only had he stopped believing, he’d also already tried his luck by managing to cheat death?

“I don’t know what to do,” Dean whispered, voice cracking.

And he didn’t. Was he supposed to just forget the fact that in the past few years he’d hated himself because he had survived whilst his parents had died, right there and then, without even a fighting chance? Was he supposed to forget that the reason he’d been on Earth to detest himself, to _blame_ himself, was because Castiel had saved him?

Or was he supposed to be grateful that Castiel had saved him? Because Dean, even though he’d had hard times, had had some pretty damn good moments in the past few years. Small things like having a great night out with his friends or some damn good sex, onto bigger things like helping Sam conquer his addiction and meeting Cas. Because if Cas hadn’t saved him, Sam might be dead in a ditch. And Dean would never have met Cas, arguably the love of his life. Well, not arguably at all. He _was_ the love of his life, through and through.

But that didn’t change the fact that Dean didn’t know whether he could forgive and forget. Pretend that Cas couldn’t have done any different, or at least believe that Cas couldn’t have changed his parent’s path.

Going on instinct alone, he shakily got up onto his feet, wobbling his way down the street. If anyone saw him, they’d probably think he was drunk, feet stumbling and face red from crying. When he made it up the steps, his hand hovered over the door handle, unsure of what to do.

With a deep breath, he opened the door, shutting it behind him quietly as he walked into Cas’ living room. When the inevitable happened and Dean was confronted with Cas’ face again, Dean didn’t know what he was going to do. Hug him or yell at him some more. Scream that he’d caused Dean to feel guilty for being alive or kiss him to thank him for making it so Sam was safe.

Everything was forgotten when Dean saw Cas curled into a ball on the floor of the living room, unmoving as he hid his face against his shins.

“Fuck.” Dean rushed over to the angel turned human. “Cas?” he asked. For a horrifying moment as he placed a hand on the back of Cas’ neck, he expected it to be cold.

Dean sighed in relief when Castiel reacted to the touch, groaning in protest. “I’m fine, I’m fine –“

“No, you’re not,” Dean argued, lifting Cas up by his waist so he could see Cas’ face. He was soaked in sweat, forehead shiny as he kept his eyes shut. Dean thought it was reminiscent of a really bad fucking migraine, making Cas want to shy away from things as his body fought against him.

“It’s just –“ Cas trembled under Dean’s touch, “there’s so much for my brain to re –“ he moaned pitifully, struggling to speak, “remember. There’s – there’s so much and it – _Dean_ ,” he leant forward, his forehead colliding with Dean’s chest, “it hurts.”

When a man who had once been an angel, who had undergone literal torture so he could become human, complained of something really hurting him, Dean knew he had to pay attention. Momentarily forgetting about the rest of the shit, of any animosity, anything at all, Dean put his sole attention on making sure Cas was okay. “I need to take you to a hospital, Cas.”

“They – they won't be able to do anything,” Castiel protested, swaying in his spot.

“You don't know that.” Dean shook his head, placing his two fingers against Cas’ pulse point on the small of his wrist. His pulse was fast, but not fast enough that made Dean think that there was imminent danger.

“I do. They can’t – they can’t do anything. My mind just needs – it needs to get used to all the new memories. Just please,” Castiel begged, “just – s-stay here.”

“Okay,” Dean decided; he might be pissed and confused with Cas, but that didn’t mean he was going to leave him when he was so fucking terrified. “Okay. Let's get you to bed so you can lie down.” With the arm around Cas’ waist, he hoisted him up to stand alongside Dean. “Can you walk?” He asked doubtfully.

“Mmhm,” Cas agreed, eyes still shut.

“Shit,” Dean realised, “no you can’t. C’mere.” He bent on his knees to prepare for Cas’ weight, picking him up bridal style. Castiel tried to help him the best way possible, keeping his body still has he groaned against Dean’s chest.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I’m sorry,” he babbled an apology; Dean wasn’t sure whether he was apologising for Dean having to pick him up, or their earlier argument. Either way, this wasn’t the time to be dealing with that shit.

“Shh.” Dean shushed him, stumbling up the stairs. Somehow, during sex, carrying Cas up the stairs had been as easy as pie. But now his legs were protesting and wobbly as he took Cas to his bedroom, gently laying him down on the bed. As soon as his body hit the mattress, Cas curled up, not bothering to huddle under the blanket.

Dean bit his lip, watching Cas, whose hands were curled into fists, knees tucked under his chin as he gently shook. The sight was unbearable, tugging at Dean’s heart painfully as he shoved off his boots.

“Dean,” Cas mumbled, voice barely audible.

“It's okay,” he told him, getting onto the bed so he could wrap an arm around Cas’ trembling frame, pulling him in as closely as humanly possible when Cas was like stone. “You're gonna be okay,” he soothed, willing for his voice to stop shaking, “this is gonna pass. You're going to be just fine, I promise you,” he murmured, privately worried that his promise was going to be broken. He didn’t know whether Cas was going to be okay; what Cas had said before hinted that no other angel turned human had remembered their past memories, so how did Dean know whether Cas was going to be ultimately okay with something that shouldn’t have happened? How did he know that Cas was going to collapse and them never wake up?

The thought made him hold Cas even tighter to him, getting a mumbled ‘Dean’ in response.

“Shh.” Dean hummed, burying his face in Cas’ hair in an attempt to muffle his sobs. “Just try and go to sleep.”

At first, Dean didn’t think it was going to be possible. Castiel kept moaning and groaning, shuffling around as his brain protested at all the new things it was being thrown. Dean had no idea what was going on in that mind, how many memories Castiel was having to relive. For all he knew, Cas could be older than the fucking _Earth_. In fact, he probably was. That was a lot of memories to relive.

After a while, Castiel’s breathing started to relax, his hands gripping Dean’s shirt loosening. When Castiel’s features started to even out, a clear sign that he was peacefully asleep, Dean watched him for a little while, expecting the worse. When an hour passed and Castiel was still sleeping calmly, Dean gently pulled himself from the bed.

He made it to the front door before Castiel appeared, standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at Dean. “Are you leaving?” he asked, voice quiet and controlled.

Dean swallowed, “Yeah.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, looking awfully small at the top of the stairs, “okay.”

Dean opened his mouth and then shut it, unsure of what to say. After everything that had transpired between them today, Dean didn’t know where they were supposed to go from there.

Choosing the cowardly route, Dean ignored all of the other shit, deciding to ask the only question he really wanted to know the answer to right now. “You okay? Your head feeling better?” He bit the inside of his cheek, still concerned that Cas was going to collapse into a heap again.

“Yes,” Castiel said, polite but distant, “I think all the memories are back. My head hurts a little but it’s not as bad.” He forced a smile, one that looked more like a wince than anything positive.

“Right.” Dean nodded, feeling like he was talking to a stranger who he had helped in the street because they’d fallen over, not the guy he was head over heels in love with. “Good. I'm glad you're okay.” He offered, because he was. Even if Dean had conflicting thoughts regarding Cas and his choices, that didn’t mean that he didn’t want Cas to be okay. He always wanted Cas to be okay.

“Dean,” Castiel hunched his shoulders inwardly, “why did you come back?”

Dean shook his head, clueless. “I don't know,” he admitted. Because he didn’t. He had no idea why he’d chosen to come back to see Cas. He had no idea what he would have done if Cas had been awake and present enough for Dean to talk with him when he’d walked through the door. Dean just didn’t fucking know.

The words upset Cas, body starting to shake as he tried not to cry. “I love you,” he declared through tears, like he expected that Dean didn’t return those words anymore. He was saying it like it was the last chance he was going to get, standing on the top of the stairs as he watched Dean walk out of the door.

“Cas,” Dean’s heart shattered, “I love you too, that hasn't changed. That’s not gonna change,” he said, adamant; he loved Cas, he did. He might have other mixed feelings about him too, but the love was still there. He doubted that would ever go away; Cas was the love of his life, Dean was sure of it, and that shit didn’t fade, nor matter what. Nothing was going to change that.

“I just need –“ he stumbled on his words, “I just need time. Time to figure all this shit out. It's – it’s  a lot to take in, Cas.”

“I understand.” Castiel nodded, though it looked like it broke his heart to admit that he did.

“I’m gonna – I’m gonna go.” Dean placed a hand on the door handle, hating that he had to do this. He wanted everything to be okay again. He wanted to run up the stairs, kiss Cas and hold him. He wanted things to be back to normal. He just wanted Cas.

“Okay,” Castiel replied, voice and body hunched small, “do you want me to drive you home?” He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes, trying to appear stronger. “Or you can wait here while you call Sam –“

“No,” Dean refused with a wobbly smile, “I’ll walk. It’ll help clear my head.”

Castiel nodded, wrapping his arms around his frame when he asked, voice barely audible, “When will I see you again?”

Dean shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know,” he admitted, the thought terrifying.

Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Dean did the same, but again, he didn’t know what to say. Instead, he simply left the house. He shut the door behind him as he took the long walk home, unknowing of when he would ever go back to that building again.


	17. Chapter 17

“Come on, Dean,” Sam shouted through the thin door, “I know you're in there. Just let me in. I’ll just use my emergency key if you don’t,” he warned.

It had been two weeks and Dean had had enough of everyone. Sam had been hounding him every fucking day, phone call after phone call, text after text, knock after knock. Jo had been messaging him dumb things about how they should meet up and have a beer, her way of saying that she was there for him, as well as a few messages telling him to get the fuck over himself, another way of showing she cared. Charlie had been sending pictures of cute animals and memes. Bobby had been leaving him to it at work and treating him as if everything was normal, which was even more infuriating because it felt like there was a giant ass elephant in the room. Ellen had left him a long ass email telling him he needed to buck up and come talk to him. Even Missouri had been frowning and tutting each time Dean had said everything was fucking _fine._

In short, Dean was sick of everyone. He just wanted to be alone.

“Answer the fucking door, Dean,” Sam yelled through the thin door.

Realising that Sam wasn’t going to let it go, Dean stormed to the front door, wrenching it open with a scowl. “Happy now?” He wanted to slam the door back in his face. He knew Sam was trying to help, but that didn’t stop Dean from hating every second of it. Why couldn’t anyone realise he just needed to be by himself as he tried to understand this his boyfriend used to be a fucking _angel._ There was no one to get advice about that, he just needed to wallow by his fucking self.

“Not really.” Sam frowned as soon as he saw Dean’s appearance; a ratty t-shirt of Cas’ and sweatpants that were years too old. “You look like shit,” Sam announced worriedly, “and your apartment is ridiculously clean.”

Dean folded his arms defensively, snapping, “I’m sorry that my apartment is clean. Unlike fucking yours.”

Sam gave him a concerned look, moving past him to sit on the couch. “This isn’t just clean, Dean. It’s obsessively clean,” he gestured to the spick and span living room, not one speck of dust to be seen, “something you always do when you’re really stressed out.”

“Wow Missouri,” Dean bit back sarcastically as he shut the door, “you’re looking different today.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed.

“You’re not my therapist, Sam. Don’t pretend to be,” Dean told him firmly, waiting at the door for what next Sam was going to say. Sam only nodded coolly, a way for him to agree not to say anything else straight out of a shrink’s office. Not knowing what to do with that, Dean stayed quiet, foot tapping impatiently. He just wanted Sam to leave already before he said something else that set him off. Dean wasn’t in the right mind or mood for company and he knew everything was going to get even shittier if he ended up arguing with his brother.

“Are you gonna talk to me?” Sam asked, his eyebrows fretful as he gazed worriedly at Dean.

“Do you want a drink?” Dean tried to distract him; he knew why Sam was here, why he’d been texting and calling, why Bobby kept staring at him at work, why Jo was hounding him at random occasions. They were all worried about him. And Dean got that, he understand why they wanted to make sure he was okay. But that didn’t mean Dean wanted them to keep fucking doing it. It was like when the car crash had happened, everyone had tried to meddle and see whether he was fine when all he’d needed and wanted was to be alone. It was exactly the same all over again. He couldn’t seem to get past that fucking time in his life, however hard he tried. Apparently, even when Dean thought he was over it, it reared its ugly head again.

“No,” Sam sighed, patting the couch, “sit down.” When Dean stayed exactly where he was, Sam sighed again, though it was less irritated than Dean expected it to be. “Come on Dean, you can’t sit and hide out in your apartment for the rest of your life. And Bobby said you're not talking at all at work either. You can’t live like this.”

“I’m fine,” Dean argued, though it was weak as he moved slowly towards the couch, sitting down on the edge, much like a caged animal.

“No you’re not,” Sam sighed sympathetically, “and I get it. I do.”

“No,” Dean shook his head forcefully, “you don’t get it. I know you think you do and I know you’re only trying to help, but seriously, you don’t get it and you won’t ever get it. Okay?”

Sam didn’t know what he was talking about. And he never would, because Dean was never going to tell him what happened. He was never going to tell him what happened, he was never going to burden Sam with that, or risk the chance of Sam thinking he was crazy pants and locking him up (though Dean still second guessed his sanity every other minute). This was never something he was going to share. And even if he did share it, Sam was never going to say he had once dealt with the same thing of dating his guardian angel now was he?

“Okay,” Sam raised his hands up in surrender, “okay. But I know what break ups are like. Hell, I had one of the worst break ups with Ruby, which included me nearly dying, so I get break ups.” He smiled. It had been long enough for him not to want to break down in tears every time he brought it up. Dean knew, though, that Sam put a lot of it on for show, choosing light conversation when it came to Ruby to show that he wasn’t as affected as anyone would have him believe. What he had with Ruby was never going to something that Sam was okay with. He was never going to get over it, not properly. There had been too much shit involved.

“We haven’t broken up,” Dean mumbled, because they hadn’t. Sure, they’d left it on horrible terms, with Dean walking out of that damn door whilst Cas was crying on the top of the stairs. But the words ‘ _we’re breaking up’_ had never come out of either of their mouths, nor through a shitty text or letter. They hadn’t spoken; Cas hadn’t tried to reach out, clearly knowing that Dean had needed his space to try and figure things out. This wasn’t like when Dean had kissed Cas and pathetically avoided him, even when Cas tried to speak to him. This was something on a whole other level.

But the whole point of Dean distancing himself was for him to sort his head out and figure what he wanted. Which was something he hadn’t done. Two weeks later, he still didn’t know how to feel. He didn’t know what he thought of Cas’ actions and he didn’t know how to even voice that to Cas. All in all, Dean was failing. He didn’t know what he wanted. The only thing he knew was that the more he thought about it, the more resentful he got to Cas’ actions.

“Dean,” Sam placed a hand on Dean’s arm, sympathetic, “you haven’t seen or spoken to each other in two weeks. It might as well be a break up.”

“No, we’re not broken up,” Dean said, adamant. He didn’t want that label and that was something he was sure of. He shrugged off Sam’s hand. “We’re just – I’m just – shit,” he groaned pitifully, “I don’t know.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, considering the situation. “You know you can talk about it with me, right?”

Dean snorted humourlessly. “I wouldn’t even know where to start without making me sound like I was crazy.”

Because really, what was a normal way to explain to his little brother that Castiel had once been an angel of the lord who had been Dean’s guardian angel, had watched over him – and subsequently Sam –  their entire lives, which had ended with Castiel risking every feather of his wings to keep Dean alive when he should be dead. Really, how could Dean even think of a way to say that without Sam thinking he was crazy?

Sam frowned, puzzled at Dean’s declaration. He was probably trying to think of some kind of scenario that would entail Dean thinking he might be sound crazy if he admitted it aloud. Dean would bet a billion bucks that Sam would never come up with the real situation. It was too unreal for it to even be a flicker of a thought in Sam’s brain.

Sam stayed silent for a little while, an awkward tension building up as Dean tried to think of something to say that would get Sam to stop talking about Cas. Because then Dean would stop having to think about Cas, of all the things he’d done for him, of his chapped lips and nose crinkles when he laughed. And the way he’d looked when Dean had walked through that door, leaving him without even so much of a promise that they would ever see each other again.

“I saw Cas today,” Sam offered carefully.

Dean’s heart skipped. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, rubbing a hand over his jeans, “I think he tried to get away from me before I saw him, to be honest.”

“What did he say?” Dean asked, feeling pathetically on edge. He didn’t think Cas would say anything, he wasn’t dumb. But if he was anything like how Dean was feeling, Cas would be too much of a mess to think straight. With that frame of mind, anything was fucking possible.

“Nothing much,” he shrugged, “about as much as you have the past two weeks. Which kind of scares me because neither of you will talk about what happened.” He looked at Dean pointedly, a sign for Dean to start talking. But no matter what he did, he wasn’t going to get Dean to talk, not about this.

Dean deflected Sam’s look, not purely because he wanted Sam to drop it, more so because he had other major concerns. “Was he okay?”

“No, not really,” Sam replied truthfully.

“But –“ Dean bit the inside of his cheek, close to drawing blood, “he didn’t look sick or anything?” he asked, not bothering to hide his worry.

“No, he didn’t look –“ Sam narrowed his eyes, confused, “why would you think he did?”

Because the last time Dean had saw him he’d been curled up in a ball in pain. Because he’d had too many memories for a small, human brain. And he had that brain because he’d saved Dean and fallen for him, in more ways than one.

“He didn’t say anything?” Dean ignored Sam’s question, taking a deep breath of relief when he realised that Castiel was okay. He might be feeling like shit, but he was walking and talking like normal, else Sam would have noticed. Down to the core, Cas was _okay_.

“No,” Sam shook his head, “as soon as I mentioned you, he pretty much ran off.” He paused, “He asked how you were though, before he disappeared on me.”

“What did you say?” Dean asked.

“I was honest and said I hadn’t seen you much. But I said weren’t doing too great. I know with break ups, or whatever this is with you two, you’re not supposed to tell the ex how shit the other one is feeling but I thought he deserved to know,” Sam explained. Dean had forgotten how much Cas had bonded with Sam and Jess over the past few months. He had slotted into their family oh so easily. And Dean was suddenly realising that Sam was probably nearly as worried for Cas as he was worried for Dean.

Dean nodded, grateful. The last thing he needed was for Sam to go telling Cas that Dean was happy without him and living it up. That would have been the worst thing that Sam could have done. He needed Cas to know that this hadn’t been easy for Dean. Many a night had Dean been half way to Cas’ house before he’d turned on his heel and gone back home, knowing that it wasn’t the right thing to do. There was so many fucking times Dean had picked up his phone, ready to speed dial Cas’ number, only to switch his phone off and hide it in his drawer before he did anything else dumb. This wasn’t one of those times where Dean could pretend everything was fine. He needed to really figure out what he wanted, what he really thought about everything that had happened. Dean always needed time to sort important things out in his head. And finding out that your boyfriend used to be an angel who had once saved your life but not your parents was definitely something that needed time.

“How –“ Dean cleared his throat, “how bad did he look?”

Sam looked at him knowingly, a sad smile on his lips. “As bad as you do.”

Dean could imagine Castiel now, wearing one of Dean’s shirts just like Dean was doing for him, not talking to anyone but Charlie and Meg because he didn’t want to talk to any of Dean’s friends even though they’d become his too. Locking himself away as Dean had, though he had his cat to keep him company as he tried to come to terms with all the new memories he had gained. Memories from a whole different lifetime that he had pushed aside for Dean.

Sam sighed. “Look, I don't know what happened with you two, because you won't tell me and neither will he. But you’ve told me that neither of you cheated on the other. And there wasn’t any violence either. So I don’t know what the hell happened to make you two, who clearly fucking love each other, think it was a good idea to do this and break up. I don’t know what he did, or what you did. All I know is that you’re both miserable without each other. And if there is any chance that you two can get together and fix this, you should do it. Because it's what you both want.” He sighed, rubbing Dean’s shoulder. “But if you think there’s no going back because he did something really bad to you, then you’re just gonna have to keep on cutting ties and – Did he do something really bad?“

“Well, yeah, he –“ Dean stopped, “he –“ he swallowed, coming to a realisation, “he didn’t do anything bad.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. “He didn’t? You said that before but I want to make sure before I start cheering you on to get back with him.”

Dean shook his head, biting his bottom lip and tasting tears. Fuck, he was finally properly _thinking_ about it with a clear head. All he’d done was think about it the entirety of the two weeks, but now was the first time he was really fucking _thinking._ “Actually, he did something pretty fucking great, but I –“ he sighed, unknowing of how to explain to Sam the problems of Cas saving him and not his parents; there was no way to talk about it with Sam unless he told him the whole story, which wasn’t going to happen, “I don’t know. It’s complicated, I guess.”

“So complicated that you don’t know whether you want to be with him?” Sam questioned quietly.

“No,” Dean replied, instant and without a thought.

Dean thought about it, how both he and Cas were upset for completely different reasons. But arguably both in the right to be upset. Or at least, that’s what Dean had initially thought. Cas, having risked everything, had remembered Dean and everything he had done to save him. He’d told Dean, not to get a thank you, but just so he would know alongside Cas how fucking _amazing_ it was that they’d found each other again. And Dean did think it was amazing. He thought it was fucking impossible that it could have happened, all of it.

And honestly? The more Dean thought about it, the more he was starting to realise that he was perhaps wrong. Castiel had saved him on the spur of the moment, because he couldn’t bear to see Dean die, the man he loved. It hadn’t been planned, there had been no time to think about Dean’s parents or that guy in the truck who had a family of his own. There hadn’t been a moment where Cas could have thought strategically. Instead, just like how Dean tended to act, he’d been rash and done something last minute when he realised he couldn’t not do it.

As a return, Dean had screamed at him that it was all his fault that his parents were dead and why Dean had been miserable for years. But Mary and John were going to die, they were planned to leave Earth in that stupid fucking car crash. Castiel hadn’t caused the crash, nor had he changed the future for his parents and forced them to die early. Castiel wasn’t the one who had decided that his parents should die then. He’d just decided that he didn’t want Dean to.

And if Cas was telling the truth, something that Dean didn’t doubt, even if Cas had tried to save Mary and John, it wouldn’t have worked. But Dean hadn’t listened when Cas had tried to explain because he was too busy thinking about how much he missed his parents, reliving the resentment of their death all over again. Because he’d been so upset, overwhelmed by everything Castiel had told him, he’d put all his anger and resentment on to Castiel.

“I think I fucked up, Sammy,” he said throatily, breath hitching as he felt, yet again, tears start to form in the corners of his eyes.

“Shit, Dean,” Sam muttered, pulling him into a rough side hug as Dean tried his hardest to get it together.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know what to do and I thought this was for the best, taking a break, but it’s just – I miss him. And – the reason why we did this, why we broke up or whatever, now it doesn’t even matter. I was so fucking stupid, I blamed him for something that wasn’t even his fault because I was upset and –“ Dean babbled, words barely audible.

Why had it taken him so long to realise that? Why had it taken him two weeks to understand that none of this had been Cas’ fault? Why couldn’t he have fucking thought about it sooner so he could have been there for Cas when he’d had to re-remember so many fucking things?

“Breathe, Dean,” Sam reminded him, taking over the role of speaker so Dean could catch his breath. “You think you fucked up? Then fix it,” Sam told him.

“Then go be with him,” Sam reiterated with a squeeze of Dean’s shoulder. “I’m serious, Dean. You have been miserable the past two weeks. Honestly, I’ve been worried about you, you haven’t been like this since –“ he trailed off, choosing not to mention the crash, even though it was something that Dean hadn’t stopped thinking about since Cas had told him the truth. “And I know that when you were with him, you were the happiest I’d seen you in a long time. And I think you can be happy without him, I do,” Sam explained, “but why try and take some of that happiness away and push Cas aside when you don’t want to?”

And that was a very good fucking question.

 

* * *

 

“Dean,” Castiel uttered the word, lips parting in surprise.

“I forgive you,” Dean said as soon as Castiel was in sight, the rain slashing at his cheeks as he stood in Cas’ doorway, just like he had so many fucking months ago.

He ignored the dark circles under Cas’ eyes, the way he looked like he hadn’t shaved in days, or the fact that his nose and eyes were red, like he’d been crying just as much as Dean had. He ignored all of it, forgot everything else, and leant forward to kiss him.

Dean could taste the rainwater on his and Cas’ lips, their lips sliding against each other wetly as Castiel started to kiss back. The kiss was feverish, Cas’ hands roaming down Dean’s wet hair to cup his face, gently holding Dean’s cheeks.

“Dean,” Castiel moaned, pulling Dean into the house, away from the downpour and into the cosiness of Cas’ home.

After everything, perhaps rushing into bed wasn't the best idea, but that didn't stop them. Their hands clawed at each other’s clothes as they found their way upstairs. This was hurried, desperate, as they tried to reclaim what they had before, when they were both innocent to what once had been Cas’ life.

Maybe fucking before talking wasn’t clever, but it was what they needed. The closeness of it, of nowhere to hide, of giving each other their sole attention. It’s what they needed from each other, especially after not having it for so long.

Rarely did they like to go this fast, storming their own clothes off without even savouring it. Normally, they liked to undress each other, slowly with gentle nips and kisses to the skin along the way. Sex wasn’t a rush for them; they liked to take their time, sometimes fucking all night with a lazy slide of their hips. Tonight was anything but that.

As soon as their clothes were off, Castiel and Dean were on the bed, lube and condoms being shoved into Dean’s eager hands.

“Please,” Castiel bit Dean’s bottom lip, licking into his mouth, “fuck me. I need you to – I need you to fuck me.”

Just as desperate as Cas, Dean hurriedly opened the lube bottle, warming it up in his hands as Castiel climbed onto his lap, legs clamped on either side of Dean’s thighs. Dean didn’t take his time in opening Cas up, not like how he normally did, slowly easing him open in a teasing way, waiting for Cas to writhe and plead before adding an extra finger. Tonight, Dean just placed in digit after digit when he knew Cas’ body was ready for it, Castiel whining hotly against Dean’s mouth the more and more open he became.

When Castiel was open enough, Dean gave Cas the condom, hands too slippy to open it up himself. Normally in these situations, he’d clean up his hands so they weren’t sticky for the rest of the night, but there was no time for that. Not tonight.

He let Cas put the condom on him, giving an extra swipe around the head of Dean’s cock as he placed it on firmly. Accepting an eager kiss from Cas, Dean squirted more lube into his hand, rubbing it onto the condom as Castiel sat up, hovering himself and waiting.

And then Castiel was letting Dean’s hard cock slide into him. Castiel didn’t wait to adjust; instantly, he started to pump his hips up and down, kissing Dean sloppily as there was a fast drag of Dean’s cock inside of him.

Needing more, needing to be deeper, Dean hooked an arm around Cas’ waist and forced him to lie on his back, Dean covering his body with his own as he brought Cas’ legs up to wrap around him. Castiel followed his actions, wrapping his limbs around Dean’s frame as Dean took control.

Their kisses were still sloppy, the air filled with grunts and groans as Dean did his best to hit Cas’ prostrate every time. Hips stuttering, Dean hid his face against Cas’ neck, biting the skin as Castiel dug his fingernails into Dean’s back, scratching him when there was a more forceful slam of Dean’s hips.

Wetness was pressed against Dean’s cheek when he ground his hips up and down. For a moment, he thought it was just rain water collecting, but he soon realised it was something much more. He leant back to see Cas’ tears, rolling down his cheeks as he gripped onto Dean, arms holding around his waist as he clung onto him.

“It’s okay baby, I'm right here, I've got you,” Dean promised, pressing their foreheads together.

“I've –“ Castiel gasped, “I’ve missed you so much.”

It took Dean another moment to realise he was crying too, dripping onto Cas’ face as he reburied against Cas’ neck. “Me too, missed you, missed this,” he said into Cas’ neck, throat hurting as he realised how true that was.

Now that they were there, together as one, Dean was suddenly overwhelmed, choking back tears as he started to slow down the movement of his hips. Castiel gasped, fingernails digging into Dean. Apparently he was just as overwhelmed as Dean.

They’d been both rushing, Dean realised, because they thought it would be over soon; that the other would turn around and change their mind, either during or after, once come was cooling on their stomachs and the other was telling the other that it was all a big bad mistake.

But neither of them were going to change their mind. This wasn’t the end of something, this was the start. A new relationship, where everything was known between them, both old and new. There were no unknown secrets, secrets that they both didn’t know about.

And now everything meant so much _more;_ to Cas, he was with the man he had nearly died for, the man he had watched over and fallen in love; to Dean, he was with the man who had sacrificed everything so he could be alive, the man he had loved even when he’d just thought he was another human on Earth. To both of them, they were looking at the person who they should never have found to have this.

They climaxed together, mouths and foreheads pressed together, wet eyes looking at each other as they moaned each other’s names harshly.

Still clinging onto each other, Dean shifted their bodies so they were lying side by side, bodies melded together as they kissed, not tongues this time, just a gentle tug of their lips as Dean ran his fingers through Cas’ messy hair.

“We should get some sleep,” Dean mumbled, feeling the tiredness start to envelop him; it made sense, he’d hardly slept for two weeks and now that he was finally in Cas’ arms, he wanted to savour it a little bit longer without having to talk about all of their shit.

Castiel hummed in agreement, kissing Dean once more. They settled with gentle kisses, turning lazier and lazier until Castiel fell asleep, a soft snore escaping his slightly parted lips as he nuzzled up to Dean.

Looking at Cas’ sleeping frame made Dean think of what Cas had once been, an angelic figure that Dean couldn’t even imagine. It was odd to think that the guy lying next to him was anything but the dorky guy who wore shitty sweaters and always wore socks, even during sex.

It calmed Dean a little though, to realise that Castiel hadn’t changed one bit. With his new memories, he could have been a completely different person, high and mighty and chattering about God every second of every day. But Cas was still the exact same person. _Thank God,_ he thought as he drifted asleep.

Feeling peckish now after a small nap, Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’ still slightly sweaty forehead before stumbling out of bed. Cursing the creaky floor, Dean tried his best to get down the stairs without making too much of a noise, which was difficult. Because Cas had slowly developed into being a heavy sleeper, content in his safe home, he didn’t seem to stir.

Dean opened the fridge and frowned at the emptiness of it. Clearly, Castiel had been taking care of himself as much as Dean had. Which was not at all.

Deciding to go with a simple sandwich, Dean grabbed the nearly stale bread and the bits of chicken slices Cas had left and started to make it. It was soothing to Dean, to do something so mundane in a house that he had missed. Most of the time, Cas’ home felt more like home than Dean’s apartment. Nothing bad had happened there, besides their last meeting. The memories that filled him up were happy ones, of him and Cas meeting for the first time (or the second time, Dean realised), their first messy kiss, nights where they stayed up watching shitty movies where Cas would declare all the mistakes. This was _home_.

Dean managed to finish off the sandwich and even wash up before he heard a loud bang from the ceiling. More bangs occurred, getting closer and closer as Dean realised it was Castiel racing down the stairs.

“Dean!!” Castiel shouted frantically.

“In here,” Dean yelled from the kitchen, feeling his own heart pound at the loudness.

Quick as a flash, Castiel came running in, only wearing boxers, still stuffing an arm through the sleeve of a t-shirt on as he slid on the floor. He came to a stop, blinking at Dean for a few seconds.

“You're still –“ Castiel murmured. And that when Dean realised that Cas had thought the worst, thought that Dean had ran away again.

“Hey.” Dean swallowed, feeling like he was about to be sick.  Cas’ terrified face was going to be etched into Dean’s mind for a long time. “I'm not going anywhere. C'mere.” He gestured, Cas following suit and falling into Dean’s arms. He nuzzled at Dean’s neck and jaw, hiding his face there as he breathed rapidly. Burying his own face in Cas’ hair, Dean ran his hands up and down Cas’ back soothingly, rubbing the small of his back as he pressed a kiss to the top of Cas’ head. And god, Dean had missed this.

“You want some tea?” he asked, because if he didn’t distract himself he was going to end up crying again and seriously, Dean was seriously fed up with crying.

“Okay,” Castiel mumbled in agreement, taking himself out of Dean’s arms like it pained him to do so.

When Dean had the kettle going, he murmured. “Y'know, I've been drinking it the past two weeks. I was missing you, made me feel closer to you, I guess,” he shrugged, hating feeling so vulnerable, “it's dumb.”

“That's not dumb,” Castiel said, wrapping his arms around himself, making Dean realise that he was wearing one of Dean’s t-shirts that he’d left behind.

“We need to talk now, huh?” Dean realised, terrified of what was going to happen next.

Castiel smiled. “I think so.”

Dean nodded, knowing that it was inevitable. “Let me just make our tea and then we can talk.”

It wasn’t long until they were both holding cups of tea, sitting on the couch with a noticeable distance between them. Everything was still so strange; Dean wanted nothing more than to jump back into bed with Cas and forget everything else. But forgetting was what got them in this mess to begin with. If they were to go forward, they needed to lay their cards on the table and _talk_. Only thing was, Dean had no idea where to start.

Castiel, god bless him, knew what to go with. “When you got here, you said you forgave me,” Castiel said, slow and precise.

Dean winced. “That wasn't exactly the best choice of words,” he admitted.

The grip on Cas’ cup of tea tightened. “I don't understand,” he said, clipped.

Dean sighed, voice small. “I don't need to forgive you because there's nothing to forgive.” Castiel’s shoulders relaxed. “You said that you couldn't have saved my parents and that it wasn't possible and I believe you.” Dean shrugged, cringing at his inability to explain things properly.

Castiel considered the words, blowing at the top of his tea for a moment to give himself more time. “Dean,” he worded it carefully, “I just want to make something clear. Even if I had been given the choice to save both of your parents or to save you, I would still have chosen you.” He didn’t look away from Dean as he said it, blue eyes clear and truthful.

Dean averted his gaze, sighing. He kind of knew that was coming.

Dean licked his lips, exhaling tiredly. “I think, if the roles had been reversed and I loved you like I do right now, I would have done the same as you.”

Castiel breathed out a long exhale, jumping forward to hug Dean. Huffing tiredly, Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist, holding him close as he found Cas’ lips, kissing him gently on the mouth. The kiss wasn’t as greedy as earlier, but the closeness was still something that Dean was savouring. He hadn’t had this for two weeks, Cas’ familiar arms wrapped around him to keep him safe; now that Dean had it again, he was unsure of whether he was ever going to be able to let go.

“I love you,” Castiel mumbled against Dean’s lips.

“Love you too.” Dean sighed contently.

There were still things to talk about, endless things. But they’d sorted out the biggest thing that had nearly broken them and for now, Dean was taking it as a victory.

Dean gazed over Cas’ dark circles, the stubble that was longer than Dean had ever seen it. “Have you been okay? Not about me and you, the other stuff,” Dean explained.

Castiel sighed, pressing their foreheads together to seek extra comfort. “Everything has been difficult,” he admitted quietly.

Dean kissed the corner of Cas’ mouth. “No more headaches though?”

“No,” Castiel shook his head, “It’s just, everything is mixed up now. I had so much of my life missing and now I remember it all and it’s just – it’s a lot to take in. More than I can really explain. All this time, I didn’t want to remember my past because I thought it would be something bad, but it’s not, for the most part anyway. They’re all memories I want but there’s so _much_ of it. And living like a normal human for the past five years makes it weird to have all of those memories back.”

“Yeah,” Dean hummed in agreement, knowing he would never understand the confusion in Cas’ brain. Thinking you were one thing only to find that you were something completely different? Talk about an identity crisis. Even more so when it wasn’t just a difference of personality or occupation, they were talking about a difference of _species._ If Dean woke up tomorrow morning and realised his whole life had been a lie and he was actually an angel – well, Dean would probably lose his shit and be a dribbling mess in the corner.

And then Castiel said something that surprised Dean. “I know this is difficult for you too.”

Dean frowned. “Not as difficult for you.”

“No, but it is,” Castiel argued, kissing Dean on the nose, which made him huff, “I remember it all now, I’m both the Castiel that I once was and the Castiel I became when I was human. I have all the memories and they all go together somewhat. Because I have all the memories, it’s not overwhelming to me that I was once an angel because that’s in my mind, that’s who I was. And yes, I guess it’s overwhelming for me in certain ways,” he admitted, “but for you – because of me – you’ve been forced into learning all these new things, things you didn’t believe in before. And that must be extremely confusing.”

Dean shuffled on his seat. “Yeah.”

“But now we can be overwhelmed together.” Castiel smiled.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean grinned, wondering how he had ever thought he could give up _this_ , “that sounds like a good deal to me.”

Castiel accepted Dean’s kiss with a smile, sighing into it. Dean knew the feeling. Having Cas in his arms was the best thing, especially after being starved of it for so long. It wasn’t just Cas’ house that felt like home to Dean, it was Cas himself. His hands covered in dirt, those blue eyes that seemed to see more than they should, the chapped lips that always made Dean feel like he was the most loved being in the world. This was Dean’s home and he didn’t want to leave it again.

“I’m assuming you have questions,” Castiel murmured.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded; boy, did he, “but now I just want to – I just want to sit here with you,” he nudged their noses together, “if that’s okay.”

Castiel looked relieved, mirroring Dean’s relaxed shoulders. “That is more than okay.”

“Okay,” Dean smiled, “good.”

He wasn’t ready for more stories about angelic life just yet, he wasn’t sure whether he would ever be properly ready for that. Sure, he would be happy to talk about Cas with memories that involved him – well, he thought a little down the line, he’d be okay to talk about that. For now, it was a little overwhelming to think that the guy sitting next to him had quite literally watched every part of his life.

But then another part of him wanted to know everything, to ask every question he had and learn _everything._ Dean’s head was a confusing mess.

“It’s odd,” Castiel tapped his cup, “now that I think back, it all just seems obvious. As soon as I moved to this town, as soon as I met you, things started to come back. I just didn't realise it at the time. It's why your apartment felt so familiar, like it was home to me. It was how I knew that your mother would tell you that angels were watching over you.”

Dean swallowed. Now that he too thought back, a lot of things made sense. All those time that Castiel had said or done something that had made Dean frown and wonder, only to shake his head and think he’d told Cas about it, or someone else had. But no one had. Cas had just subconsciously knew it because there was a small part of his brain that had remembered everything.

“It's even why I called Aniel, Aniel,” Castiel said with a sigh.

“What does Anna have to do with anything?” Dean frowned, lost.

“I have –  had –“ he corrected, “a sister. She was called Aniel, but I always called her Anna. She was the head of my garrison before I was.”

Dean’s head did a double take. “You were the head of a garrison?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, like it wasn’t important.

Now, Dean didn’t know much about Heaven or what it was like up there, but being some kind of leader of a group of angels seemed like a big fucking deal to him. “Holy shit.” He whispered, wincing when he realised that he’d just said those words to a son of fucking _God._

Castiel didn’t seem to care about the holy profanity. “Anna was – we were supposed to love all of our siblings evenly, but with Anna, I was especially close to her. She taught me a lot of things. I guess if we were humans, she would have been my big sister, or perhaps even my mother.” A small huff of laughter escaped Cas’ pink lips. “if any of my brothers or sisters could hear me say that now. I would have been quartered for blasphemy.” He smiled sadly, dropping one of his hands to find Dean’s, clasping it tightly.

“At first she was a warrior like I was, but then she was made a guardian angel. Anna had always been...” He paused, trying to think of the right term. “She was always different. She seemed to understand humans more than the rest of us, she always spoke highly of you, of how you all felt _everything_. While the rest of us thought that was weakness, she thought it was strength.”

Dean smiled, wondering whether Anna would have thought it was so much of a strength if she had to handle dealing with emotions that never did what you wanted them to, of panic attacks and heart break. He doubted she would find them a strength then, though Dean liked the sentiment behind her thoughts. Trust Cas to have been closest to the angel who thought that.

“I was about to go to battle when Anna came to me. She wished me luck on the battle and that she hoped that I would find my way. When I came back from fighting, I realised that was her way of saying goodbye. She'd chosen to fall,” Castiel explained quietly. Clearly remembering losing Aniel was not an easy one for him. Dean wondered whether it would have been as painful if he were to lose Sam. “She didn’t fall like how I did. She did it herself which is arguably much more painful. And more difficult. The way she forced herself to fall, you are born again as a human. A miracle child in someone's womb on Earth.

“I couldn't understand it, why she would want to sacrifice everything we had to be an insignificant human, someone so frail, someone mortal, whose life span was a grain of sand compared to ours.” Castiel smiled sadly, abandoning his tea to instead trace patterns on the small lines of Dean’s hand. “A little while after she'd fallen, I was assigned to you. And then I started to understand why she'd chosen that path.”

Dean swallowed, knowing what was to come.

“When you were twenty and I was starting to have doubts, starting to feel _things_ , I went to her. Angels aren't supposed to be able to feel where fallen angels are on earth, but as I said, Anna and I were close and I tried extremely hard to find her. Angels aren't supposed to do that either, I was risking a lot to do it. But,” his smiled turned fonder, “I found her. She couldn't see me of course and I couldn't talk to her. But seeing her, it offered me some comfort. She was only a little older than you, not even twenty one yet. She had red hair, a happy smile. Religious, which amused me somewhat after everything she'd done to rid herself of her grace. But she was happy. She was happy to be human. And I think, seeing her like that, it almost sealed my own fate.”

The thought of it all was too much. Thinking of a Castiel who didn’t look like the man in front of him, leading battles and thinking humans were weak. It was just downright fucking _too much._ But hearing about how Castiel had fought the odds to see his sister one last time, to seek her for help when he needed it, it didn’t sound too different to how humans were. To how Castiel was right now. The bigger picture was foreign to Dean, of Heaven and battles and guardian angels, but the crux of it, the nitty gritty of just wanting to have comfort from your sibling was familiar.

“We could go find her,” Dean offered.

“Dean,” Castiel smiled sadly, squeezing Dean’s hand, “she wouldn't remember me.”

“ _You_ remembered,” Dean argued, though he knew it was something completely different. He knew it wasn’t a go to thing for angels to remember what had happened to them once they were human. Castiel was special.

“I remembered because of you. Because of very unusual circumstances. If I went to her, she wouldn't know who I was. And if I started speaking to her about angels, she would think that I would need to be institutionalised.” Castiel’s smile turned more forced. He wanted to be wrong, Dean realised. Castiel wished he was wrong and that he would be able to go see his sister again, to have someone from his old life with him. Wishing for the impossible was very much a human thing to do.

“You could still be her friend, you don't have to tell her the angel stuff.” Dean tried to think of a way, of any way, that Cas would be able to have his sister back.

“It wouldn't work, Dean. You know that,” he said gently, though Dean could tell Cas appreciated the sentiment behind Dean’s offering. “I couldn't befriend her and lie to her forever, constantly thinking of what I'm next going to say in case it's something that was from a life that she doesn't remember.”

“But it just fucking sucks. You actually have some of your family out there, on Earth, and you can't even – she wouldn't even recognise you.” Dean’s heart hurt at the notion. Castiel didn’t deserve to be alone. He deserved to find his sister. He deserved that.

“It is what it is,” Castiel murmured thoughtfully.

Dean grumbled to himself but didn’t say anything more about it. Castiel would only get upset and Dean would end up doing the opposite of what he’d intended.

It was another minute before Castiel spoke again, “And I think you're wrong.”

Dean frowned. “About what?”

Castiel looked him deep in the eyes, holding his hand tightly. “You're my family.”

Dean looked down at their joint hands. He wet his lips, swallowing audibly. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I am.”


	18. Chapter 18

Dean bit the extra skin on his bottom lip, a habit he’d been doing the past few weeks. “Hey Sammy.”

Sam didn’t bother with any form of greeting, cutting straight to the point. “Where are you? I tried to come around to your apartment and you weren’t there. You haven’t done anything stupid have –“

“Relax,” Dean shut him up, “I’m with Cas.”

There was a pause, long enough to make Dean feel even more self-conscious and awkward. “With Cas?” Sam asked slowly.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, heart beating hard. He knew Sam wanted Dean to be with Cas, he’d been telling Dean to go find Cas and sort out the entire mess from the get go. But he knew Sam had some kind of reservations because he didn’t know the true nature as to why they’d had their break in the first place. Sam always wanted to know everything, especially when it came to Dean.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded again, “we’re okay. We’re gonna be okay,” he said aloud, certain of it now. He and Cas needed time. They needed to talk about things and Dean needed to understand more about the whole angel thing, though he doubted he was ever going to truly understand the bigness of it all. Perhaps it would be better if he never did realise the true nature of how fucking _big_ it was that his boyfriend used to be an angel and had risked everything to save him. Thinking about it made Dean’s head hurt.

“Um, we’re going to Daphne’s. Remember when I said we were planning on going to see Cas’ friend, to see the new baby?” he offered. The plans had been fixed weeks ago. Daphne had had a little girl and had told Cas to come by when they did the christening, a perfect time to catch up. Dean and Cas had meant to go a few days earlier than the actual christening date, but because of everything that had happened, they were going to be getting there just in time for the ceremony.

“Yeah, I remember.” Sam sighed, sounding more than relieved that Dean wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. With how much of a mess Dean had been the past few weeks, it wasn’t surprising that Sam had been worried. “So, you and Cas are okay?” Sam’s voice softened.

“Yeah. I think – I think it’ll be good for us to get away for a couple of days, y’know?” Dean said, knowing the truthfulness of that statement. They needed to be alone for a while. They couldn’t talk about their shit in front of people, they needed space. Getting out of town, where everywhere Dean looked was a reminder of the crash and angels, was probably a good idea too.

“Okay. Just – look after yourself,” Sam told him, voice firm. “I’ve been worried about you. I still am,” he admitted. Dean knew if he could see his little brother, he'd be cutting his bottom lip to shreds with his teeth and would be running a hand through his maddeningly too long hair as Jess tried to calm him down. Come to think of it, Dean hadn't been helping Sam all that much by being such a fucking mess, the kid already had enough on his plate, he didn’t need to placate a fucked up brother as well. But it wasn’t Dean’s fault and he knew Sam wouldn’t see it as some kind of chore either.

“Well, I’m always worried about you so I guess it’s payback,” Dean tried to joke, though he already knew it would fall flat before it even left his mouth.

Sam blew an irritated breath. “Dean, I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” Dean sighed.

“So don’t disappear. At least text me over the next few days. Just don’t ignore me like you’ve been trying to ignore me these past few weeks.” Sam’s voice continued to be serious. Dean had worried his brother that was for certain.

“I’ll text you,” Dean promised. He spotted Cas ambling over then, a receipt in his hand for paying their much needed gas. Daphne’s house was a good drive away. “Look, I’ve got to go. But I’m fine so stop worrying okay? I’m with Cas and it’s all good.” He didn’t let Sam speak, quickly mumbling a goodbye as he hung up the phone. He knew Sam would be swearing on the other end but it didn’t matter, he’d have forgotten it by the time he saw Dean again.

“Hey,” Dean said as Castiel got into the car, shutting the door behind him with a gentle thud. Dean used the time to shove his phone back into his pocket with as little elegance as possible.

“Were you on the phone?” Castiel asked, slotting his seatbelt back on, eyebrows raised curiously.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “with Sammy. I was just, uh, telling him that I was with you and we were going to Daphne’s,” he explained.

“Oh,” Castiel paused, “okay.”

“Okay.” Dean mumbled.

And then they were silent again. It was like as soon as they’d got into the damn car, the quiet had engulfed them and they didn’t know how to fucking talk to each other. Screw the fact that they’d literally screwed each other for the past two days, never leaving the bedroom apart from to pee and eat. Perhaps that was the fucking problem. They had hardly spoken, hardly properly talked since that one talk about whether Dean had forgiven Cas or not. After that, they’d just been having sex and cuddling with hardly any words spoken between them. Not until they’d started to pack to go to Daphne’s anyway, though the conversation for that was just whether they’d packed enough underwear and socks. Not really the mind blowing talk they needed to have.

So now there was an awkward silence that neither of them knew how to break.

Dean wet his lips, desperate to start some kind of conversation that didn’t start with angels or car crashes. “Excited to see Daphne?”

“Yes. Very much so.” Castiel smiled. “And to see Mike. And Lucy. Especially Lucy.”

“Finally gonna meet your goddaughter.” Dean spoke. And then he winced when he realised he’d inadvertently just said the word God. For fucks sake, even when he put it out of his mind, it popped right back up again.

“Yes.” Castiel nodded. He must have noticed Dean’s face because then he was reaching over and grabbing Dean’s hand as he started the engine.

They needed to talk, Dean knew it. But _starting_ the talk was the most difficult thing. He didn’t know how to start it and he didn’t know where to even begin. Castiel had had an entire life before Dean, which could span _millions_ of fucking years. Where the hell was Dean supposed to start when there were years and years before him? Years of things he would never be able to comprehend.

“I –“ Dean started to speak, to say something fucking important. To tell Cas that he wanted to know everything about what he once was, to ask him to talk about how much he remembered of Dean’s life, whether it was everything or just a fingerprint of it between all of the rest of his long memories.

“I –“ Dean swallowed, “I’m excited to meet them too.” He chickened out before he even realised it.

Castiel only squeezed his hand tighter.

 

* * *

 

Daphne was what Dean had expected of her. Welcoming. Friendly. A little shy and serious, definitely an introvert. And, to add, a tiny bit frazzled because she’d just had a baby. She had a kind face though, green eyes, mildly dark hair, and a gentle smile. Mike was just as friendly, dark skin with deep brown eyes and full lips that were stretched into an almost permanent goofy grin.

Dean took a step back as he watched Cas be enveloped into hugs by the both of them. Cas wasn’t a hugger with people besides Dean by any means, but he folded into their arms with ease. The hugs barely lasted seconds though. Mike did the usual pat on the back ‘manly’ hug, whilst Daphne was a little longer, a gentle squeeze before she was stepping back and taking her husband’s hand.

Lucy, of course, was the star of the show, still young enough to look a bit like a wrinkled pensioner. But she was a beautiful little thing, face and fists scrunched as she sleepily blinked up at Dean and Cas. By the look on Cas’ face, he was already enamoured with her. The wonderment on Cas’ features hurt Dean’s heart.

One thing that Dean hadn’t been expecting, however, was for Daphne to be religious. It had never came into conversation with Cas, but as Dean and Castiel went into the spare bedroom for the weekend, Dean couldn’t help but notice the array of crosses. It wasn’t the odd one here and there, they were fucking _everywhere_. And there were angel figurines too, little plaques that had scripture on them. Some of them, Dean recognised from when he was a kid.

“There’s a lot of crosses and angels and shit,” Dean said, scratching his cheek. He dropped his bag onto the carefully made up bed, huffing when he remembered the awkward talk they'd had only seconds before. Daphne had apologised that they only had one spare bedroom now that Lucy’s things had overtaken the other.  At first, Dean had been confused that Cas wouldn't have told one of his oldest friends about his and Dean’s relationship,  but it was obvious by the look on Cas’ face that he'd very much insinuated it over the phone, though Daphne had been too scatter brained with baby brain to fully take note.

The pleased expression on Daphne face as she'd watched Dean and Cas walk upstairs together told Dean that, while she was religious, she wasn't using her supposed religion as an excuse to be a homophobic asshole.  So that was good.

“Daphne is very religious.” Castiel replied, carefully pulling out his clothes to hang them in the space provided.

“Huh,” Dean hummed. Even when they were trying to get away from all of that shit, it was still creeping up them.

“Yes.” Castiel nodded. “She believes that there is a purpose for everything,” he continued to talk, shrugging. “I remember that whenever I was feeling particularly bad when I lived here, she used to try and use God as a way to make me feel better.” He smiled, though it was a sad one. “But I didn’t believe in Him so it didn’t work. She meant well, Daphne always means well, but it stopped me from wanting to talk about my problems. Because she would just tell me that everything had a reason, a purpose, and it would only make me madder. Looking back, I should have just talked to her and explained I didn’t want to hear about God’s purpose, but…” He sighed.

“You’d gone through a shit ton of stuff when you came to live with Daphne. It’s not exactly surprising that you didn’t want to cause a fuss,” Dean told him, understanding why Cas hadn’t wanted to call Daphne out on something when she’d been trying her best to help. Dean knew how it felt to have people pandering to you, trying to make you feel better, only they ended up making you feel worse. “Bet she’d have a heart attack if you told her who you really were,” Dean murmured, trying to find a sock in his duffel. Why were they so damn hard to find?

“I’m just Castiel,” Cas replied tightly.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean agreed, he knew how true that was. Cas remembered all of his past, knew everything about what he'd once been, yet he hadn't changed one bit. That told Dean that Cas had been exactly the same when he'd had a pair of wings on his shoulders, the outcast, the quirky one, the angel who fought for the underdog. Sure, some of his personality would have evolved through his humanity, but the core of him, the very thing that made Cas _Cas_ hadn't changed. What Dean had fallen in love with hadn't disappeared now that Cas had his mighty memories back. He was still the same.  

“But you didn’t always look like that, did you?” Dean nodded at Cas’ appearance, wondering what he had looked like when he'd watched over Dean all of those fucking years.

Castiel averted his gaze, the corners of his mouth down pulling. “We should get ready for the christening.” He avoided the topic, unbuttoning his shirt.

 

* * *

 

During the christening ceremony, Dean stayed seated whilst Castiel stood next to his old friends and his new goddaughter, who looked very displeased to have her head wetted. Dean knew he was supposed to be watching Lucy and the ceremony itself, but his gaze never left Castiel’s. Castiel, in a tweed suit with elbow patches that he’d bought especially for the occasion, was crying, small, silent wept tears. And Dean knew they weren’t just because of the beauty of Lucy. It hit Dean how fucking _brave_ Cas had been to still come to the christening after remembering everything. They were in a fucking _church._ The home for people who believed in a God above, who believed in _angels_. And Cas was standing there, as brave as he could be, when he knew he’d once been an angel himself.

Once the ceremony was over, Dean wasted no time in rushing over to Cas. He kissed him, plain and simple, finally settling the itch he’d had for the entire ceremony.

“I love you,” Dean mumbled against Cas’ mouth. He wished he could say more. He wished he could tell Cas how proud he was of him for walking into that damn church, for ducking his head down and praying, for singing hymns that were once sung to him and his family.

Castiel seemed surprised at the words, but he didn’t struggle to say them back. “I love you too.”

And then they were rushed into photographs by Daphne, who was pulling them into a group photo eagerly. And then there were even more photos, then there was the small party where Cas was dragged this way and that when his old friends spotted him along the flock of people. Dean kept hold of his hand though it all, never leaving his side.

Once everyone had left the house, it was cleaning duty. Daphne and Mike had tried to stop Dean and Cas from helping out, but they’d outright refused and started tidying anyway, much to Daphne’s fretful transgression. Finally, Dean had to let go of Castiel’s hand.

He hadn’t been meaning to eavesdrop, Dean really hadn’t, he’d been setting off to the kitchen to give Daphne and Cas, who were on washing up duty, some glasses he’d found tucked in the downstairs bathroom (why the fuck they’d been there, Dean didn’t know). But when he heard Daphne and Cas’ voices, he found himself stopping in the doorway, listening to their words.

“The ceremony was beautiful,” Castiel offered as he dried a squeaky clean plate.

“Thank you,” Daphne placed a hand on Cas’ forearm for a moment, leaving wetness there, “I’m glad you could be here.”

“I’m going to try and visit more often. I don’t want Lucy to be walking and talking the next time I see her,” Castiel replied. Dean couldn’t see Cas’ face, but he knew by the tone of his voice he was frowning. Clearly, Castiel was taking godfather duty seriously.

“I’ll make sure to send you pictures too,” Daphne promised.

“Thank you.”

There was a pause. Just as Dean was about to stop being so fucking nosey and walk in, Daphne started to speak again. “Dean is lovely. Just as lovely as you told me he was,” she nudged Cas in the ribs good heartedly.

Castiel tilted his head so Dean could see half of his features. “Yes.” Castiel smiled, a fond one that still looked like it had hurt behind it. None of Cas’ smiles since he’d remembered what he’d once been had been entirely happy, not one. Dean was only just realising that.

Daphne peered at Castiel, seemingly seeing the upset like Dean. She was obviously observant and knew Cas more so than Dean could have predicted. “How have you been, Cas? _Really_?” she added, apparently knowing that Cas could hide things a lot. “I mean, I didn’t even know you were dating that man in there. I’ve been so wrapped up with the baby, it feels like I’ve hardly asked about _you_.”

“You’ve just had a child,” Cas reminded her, “you’re allowed to be selfish.”

Daphne shook her head in disagreement. “I don’t think that’s true. It feels like I haven’t properly spoken to you in months. If I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend, what else have I missed?”

Castiel sighed, shoulders tightening. “A few things.”

“Like?” Daphne prompted.

“I’ve –“ Castiel sighed. “I’ve remembered things,” he admitted, making Dean’s heart stop. “I’ve remembered everything.”

The announcement surprised Daphne as much as Dean. “What?” She asked; she was trying to keep her voice controlled, but Dean heard the shock, the worry. It was clear that she knew how much of a big deal it was that Castiel remembered anything at all, let alone _all_ of it.

Castiel gripped the towel in his hold tightly. “It’s been difficult,” he murmured, making Dean swallow hard.

Daphne twisted her body to give Cas her full attention. She could detect how Cas was trying to understate things. “How difficult?” she asked softly.

“I’ve been trying to keep it all – to handle it,” he stumbled on his words, voice very small, “but I fear I’m not doing very well with it.”

A lump in Dean’s throat formed. Cas was talking more about it to Daphne than he’d done to him. He was finally fucking opening up and explaining how he felt about it all. And it wasn’t to Dean. It was with someone else.

“Does Dean know?” Daphne asked.

“Yes, he – he knows. Of course he does. But some of it involves him and I don’t want to talk about it with him and overwhelm him. I’ve already put so much on his shoulders with the memories I told him, it’s not fair.” Castiel was careful with his words, but his voice was hitching. He was close to tears.

“I doubt he sees it that way,” Daphne stated what was fucking obvious to Dean. Of course Dean wanted to hear Cas talk about it, of course he wanted Cas to be able to feel like he could confide in him. That was the whole fucking point of a relationship.

“ _I_ see it that way,” Castiel insisted, “I shouldn’t –“ his voice broke and Dean could hear the tears in his words, “I shouldn’t have remembered, it would have been better – I never wanted to know and now that I do, it’s ruined things. Dean and I – it’s put something between us and I know that he doesn’t blame me, but – but –“ He stopped talking then, crying too hard now. And Dean had had enough of standing there listening.

“Cas,” he stumbled as he ran into the kitchen, placing the glasses on the kitchen table so he could reach over to Cas. Everything else was forgotten.

Castiel’s eyes widened when he realised Dean had been hearing it all. “Dean,” he shook his head, face crumbling, “I’m sorry.” Dean didn’t know what he was apologising for, whether it was the crying or something much bigger. Perhaps he was just apologising for _everything._

“Shh.” Dean pulled him into a tight embrace, watching Daphne quietly walk out of the kitchen with a worried expression. “It’s alright baby, it’s alright.”

“It’s – it’s not,” Castiel insisted, gripping onto Dean’s shirt tightly, dampening it with tears as he blew frustrated breaths between the cries.

“No, it is. It’s gonna be alright. We’re okay,” he promised. He held Cas as he cried, pressing small kisses to the top of Cas’ head and behind his ear. He needed Cas to understand that it was going to be okay. Sure, they’d hit a rough patch, but it wasn’t going to be fucking easy when they put fucking angels into the mix. Besides, relationships were never easy. But they were going to be okay.

Suddenly, Castiel leant out from Dean’s touch. His eyes were rimmed red, snot and tears wetting his cheeks and under his nose. “I’m going to – I’m going to go see Lucy,” he decided.

Dean wanted to tell him to fucking stay with him, but he had a feeling that Cas might need a moment alone. And being around Lucy seemed to calm Castiel anyway. “Okay.” Dean regretfully dropped his hands from Cas’ frame. “I’ll be there in a little while, okay?” he asked, hoping that Castiel wouldn’t shut him down and say he wanted to be alone for the rest of the night. They needed to be together, else this was never going to get sorted.

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

Dean bit his bottom lip. “Love you,” he offered quietly.

Through the tears, Castiel smiled, albeit it was a tired one. “I love you too.”

Castiel left him then. With nothing to do, Dean resumed the washing up, figuring the time it took him to do that would be ample time for Cas to be alone. And then Dean could go find him and maybe fucking _talk._

“Where’s Cas?” Daphne’s voice came out of fucking nowhere, making Dean jump.

Dean turned his head, rubbing at his wet eyes to see Daphne standing in the doorframe, looking extremely concerned. “He’s gone to go check on Lucy,” Dean explained. “I think you need to be careful, cause I think he’s planning on stealing her and bringing her back with us.” Dean tried to keep the tone light, knowing he was doing a shit job of it.

“Is he okay? You don’t have to tell me anything, nothing at all, other than whether he’s okay.” Daphne folded her arms, something that must have been a habit of hers when she was feeling nervous.

“Yeah.” Dean curled his shoulders inwards. “Its just – it’s been a tough few weeks. For both of us.”

“But you’re both going to be okay,” Daphne didn’t phrase it as a question, which actually soothed Dean. If Daphne thought they were going to be okay and didn’t even second guess it, maybe they were actually going to be _okay._

“Yeah, we’re working on it. A lot of shit, uh, stuff happened. Stuff,” he corrected the curse word. “But we’re working on it.” Dean nodded affirmatively.

Daphne smiled, a small one that lit up her serious features. “You’re allowed to swear in front of me, Dean.”

Even with all the shit going on in his life, he couldn’t help but huff at that. “Right, sorry. I’m just not used to being around really religious people, that’s all.” He shrugged.

“No one you know is religious?” Daphne asked, sounding surprised.

“Not really. My mom was. And I was for a little while, when I was younger.” Dean offered.

“Not anymore?”

Dean wet his lips, forgetting about the dirty dishes so he could lean against the counter. “I think that there’s a God out there, I do. I’m pretty certain of it, actually. Well, at least recently, uh, something happened that kind of proved it to me, that He exists,” Dean explained, keeping it cryptic, else he wouldn’t be able to stop himself and would start chatting shit about Cas being an angel or something. “But I don’t believe in Him. I believe in the people around me, those who are trying their hardest to get by. Like my brother. And my friends. I –“ he paused, feeling like he was, yet again, about to well up, “I believe in Cas. That’s who I believe in.” He smiled apologetically. “Sorry,” he offered.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Daphne smiled warmly. “You’re allowed to believe whatever you want to believe. For some, it’s comfort to know that there’s a God. I know it comforts me. But for some, it doesn’t comfort them at all. I think, really, it’s whatever gets you through the day.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, suddenly feeling a whole lot closer to Daphne. It was obvious why, through all of the people Cas had met on his travels before settling in Dean’s town, Daphne was the person he’d chosen to keep in his life. Cas had a habit of choosing really good fucking people to have around him.

 

* * *

 

By the time they were getting changed into their pyjamas and settling into bed, Dean and Castiel still hadn’t talked, not how Dean wanted to anyway. It was hanging over their heads and Dean knew, he fucking _knew,_ that if they didn’t talk about it, things were never going to be fixed. Castiel was always going to think he couldn’t talk about his past with Dean, and Dean was always going to worry about not knowing how to deal with the bigger picture of Cas’ past.

But the thought to talk kind of dissipated when Dean got onto the mattress, that sunk around him heavenly. “Shit this bed is comfy.”

“Dean,” Castiel reprimanded him as he pulled on his last sock, “there's a baby in this house.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I didn't know the baby had Vulcan hearing.”

“It's your fault that I know what that means.” Castiel complained with a sigh.

“Shut up and come to bed,” Dean whined. Maybe they’d have their chat tomorrow. Castiel was tired and obviously not in the mood. Dean was tired too after hours of driving and shuffling around nonstop all day. They needed to rest. But tomorrow, tomorrow they would talk.

Following Dean’s words, Castiel climbed into bed, wasting no time in cuddling up to Dean so he could hide his face against Dean’s chest.

Dean, even with all of shit hanging above their heads, couldn’t help but smile. “God, we're like fucking octupus' aren’t we? Octupus’” he frowned, “octupi?” he offered, wondering what the hell the plural word was for octopus. Or was it just fucking octopus? Kinda like sheep? Shit, he really needed to go to sleep _._

“Octopodēs,” Castiel yawned, “you always have pie on the brain.”

“Shut up.” Dean grinned, because things felt like they were getting back to normal. It was happening slowly, but this was the most light hearted conversation they’d had since coming off their ‘break’. Maybe they just needed time after all. Time to heal.

“And I prefer to think of us as otters,” Castiel added after a moment of restful quiet.

Well, that was a fucking new one. “Otters?” Dean frowned.

“Yes. When they sleep on the water, they hold hands so they don't lose each other,” Castiel explained tiredly.

And that just made Dean’s heart pathetically surge. “I love you,” he replied simply. God, he _really fucking did_. He loved Cas and that was never going to change, even if the guy turned around and told him he used to be a fucking alien before he was an angel. Nothing would stop him from loving the man in his arms. Nothing.

“I love you too,” Castiel said, on a roll with the animal talk now, “and of course there's penguins.”

“What do penguins do?" Dean yawned.

“They give the other a rock and then mate for life.” Castiel explained, nuzzling Dean’s chest.

“You never gave me a rock,” Dean mumbled, though he figured saving his life even though he wasn’t supposed to kind of trumped a dumb rock. He wasn’t going to say that out loud though, simply settling with, “Any other animal facts you want to throw at me or can we go to sleep now?”

"We can go to sleep,” Castiel decided.

There was a moment of silence. Castiel’s breathing was starting to regulate, on the tip of drifting off. But Dean was still thinking about how there were so many unspoken things between them. He was still visualising Cas crying in that kitchen only a few hours before because he was hurting, overwhelmed, and thought he couldn’t talk to Dean about it because he would hurt and overwhelm Dean too.

“Hey Cas?” Dean mumbled.

“Mm?” Castiel hummed, grabbing a fistful of Dean’s t-shirt. He was ready to sleep, Dean realised. By the looks of the dark circles under Cas’ eyes, he hadn’t been sleeping well. He might have been having the necessary hours and more, but he was struggling to have a full sleep that didn’t involve a nightmare or a fitful night.

Dean licked his lips, unsure of how to sugar coat it. Scared to hear the answer. “You’re – you’re okay, right?” he asked, hesitating.

Castiel was quiet, his grip of Dean’s shirt tightening. He burrowed into Dean, nuzzling into Dean’s chest. The pause made Dean know that the answer wasn’t going to be pleasant. “I don’t know,” he admitted, voice soft.

Dean smoothed down Cas’ hair, scratching the nape of Cas’ neck gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Castiel huffed tiredly. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“But you can talk about it, if you ever want to. I know that I’m not exactly the best when we talk about angels and shit, but I’m trying. And I want to hear about it all, I do,” Dean mumbled, doing his fucking _best._

Castiel was silent. And then a quiet, “Okay.”

“So whenever you’re ready to talk about it all, you can talk about it with me. I want to know it all, honestly.” Dean kissed the top of Cas’ head.

“Okay,” Cas repeated, hand coming up to grip Dean’s forearm, holding on tightly.

Silence. And Castiel sounded like he was going to go to sleep again. And yet, Dean still needed to know one more thing.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek worriedly. “We’re gonna be alright though, aren’t we?” he asked, voice small. He needed Cas to be confident in the answer, needing him to be positive that they were going to be just fine.

There wasn’t a pause this time. “Yes,” he answered, sure of it. “We’re going to be okay.” He squeezed Dean’s forearm. “I know it.”

Just by chance, Dean looked down at Cas’ hand, holding onto Dean’s forearm. His hand was placed on Dean’s tattoo, on the hand print that he’d once created so many years ago. Absurdly, Cas’ hand fitted the hand print, like the tattoo had been inked around his fingers and palm. It should have been impossible, for it to fit so perfectly. The tattoo had been done once the bruise had disappeared, done by memory alone. It should have been fucking _impossible._

Funnily enough though, even though it should have had Dean sitting up in bed and hysterically laughing or crying at the unfeasibility of their life, Dean wasn’t even surprised anymore. One thing was for certain, God must have a fucking weird sense of humour.

The last thing Dean saw before he shut his eyes was Cas’ hand slotted onto the handprint tattoo. “Yeah,” he agreed, “me too.”

They were going to be just fine.


End file.
